She spent the morning printing off missing-cat posters. Using one of the few photos she had—a snapshot of Orion on the windowsill—she added a brief description: “Gray Cat, Blue-Green Eyes, Answers to Orion. If Found, Please Call.” She slipped them into plastic sleeves to protect them from the weather, her hands shaking with each print.
It felt surreal, plastering Orion’s face on telephone poles and bus-stop shelters. She ventured into the local diner, the bakery, and even the small library, politely asking permission to tape a missing-cat flyer to their doors. “He’s very friendly,” she told them, trying to steady her wavering voice. “Please let me know if you see him.”
Many people offered sympathy. “I’ve got a cat, too,” said a man behind the bakery counter. “I’ll be sure to check around.” An older patron patted Eliza’s arm gently. “Don’t lose hope, dear,” she said. “Cats are clever. He might just be on an adventure.”
Despite the kind words, Eliza couldn’t shake her mounting dread. She scoured every corner of Maplewood through the drizzle, looking beneath porches, behind shrubs, even in the local park’s gazebo.
She rattled a small bag of treats and called Orion’s name over and over. Her voice cracked. Tears mingled with the rain as she pictured him cold, wet, or frightened somewhere. Days passed without a single sighting. Each morning, she checked her phone, hoping someone had left a message.
The silence of her voicemail cut deeper each time. Her house, once filled with Orion’s playful energy, felt like a hollow shell. She found herself listening for phantom meows at night. More than once, she awoke, heart racing, convinced she’d heard him scratching at the door.
One evening, she wandered into the local hardware store. “I’m just—looking,” she muttered, though she had no real purpose to be there. A middle-aged clerk noticed her watery eyes and recognized her from the missing-cat flyers. “You still haven’t found him?” he asked gently.
She shook her head, fighting tears. “It’s been days. I don’t know what to do anymore.” The clerk offered a small flashlight. “Sometimes cats hide in the tightest spaces. Maybe you can check under your house or behind the vents. I’ve had luck that way before.” Though unsure, Eliza thanked him and took the flashlight, feeling a faint glimmer of possibility.