Alan was just about to settle into bed when the doorbell rang, cutting through the evening quiet. He sighed, feeling the ache in his joints as he shuffled to the door. Standing there was the little girl from next door, her breath misting in the frigid air.
“Mr. Rogers, there’s a cat in your backyard,” she said, her voice edged with worry. “It’s been there since morning, and I’m afraid it’s going to freeze.” Alan blinked. A cat? In his yard? He hadn’t heard a single sound all day, but the girl’s fear was unmistakable.
Alan, though bewildered, nodded and thanked her. He shut the door, the chill lingering in his bones as he braced himself for the cold. Layering on his thickest coat, scarf, and gloves, he prepared for the onslaught of frigid air.
The cold hit him like a punch, the wind clawing through his layers and seeping into his joints. Every step was an effort, his breath puffing out in misty bursts as he trudged toward the backyard.