Some of Lily’s belongings had been taken away after the accident. I understood why, but it didn’t make it easier. Each item felt like a piece of her that had been locked behind a door I couldn’t open. Among them was her favorite yellow sweater. Soft, bright, and cheerful, it had been her go-to on weekends. When she wore it, I could spot her anywhere.
I missed that sweater more than I expected.
I was staring out into the fog when I heard it.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
At first, I ignored it. Our dog Baxter usually stayed outside in the mornings. He had a cozy setup on the porch and loved the cool air. If he wanted in, he barked once or twice. This was different.
The sound was urgent. Sharp. Almost panicked.
I pushed my chair back slowly, my heart beginning to race. Since everything happened, every unexpected noise set my nerves on edge. I walked toward the back door, my steps cautious.
“Baxter?” I called softly.
The scratching stopped for a moment.
Then came one short, sharp bark. The kind he used only when something was wrong.
Baxter stood there, eyes wide, chest heaving, ears alert. His tail was stiff, not wagging the way it usually did when he saw me.
And hanging gently from his mouth was something yellow.
For a moment, my mind refused to understand what my eyes were seeing.
“Baxter…” My voice trailed off.
He stepped forward and carefully placed the bundle at my feet.
It was a sweater.
A soft, yellow sweater with tiny pearl buttons.
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