Never left the safety of locked doors and windows, and the sound of laughter coming from the television, and the good smells of food cooking in the kitchen, and the warm glow of lights in every room. But she didn’t know, see? She didn’t have a clue what was waiting for her, at the edge of the darkness, so when she heard the scratching, she thought it was the stray cat that had been coming around. The one with the tattered ear and the hungry eyes. The sun was just about to set. She could see it still shining in the west, like an orange ball of fire on the verge of falling into space. So she thought, I’ll just put some food at the edge of the yard. For the cat. She poured a cup of kitty chow into a plastic bag and grabbed her coat. Then she walked out the back door, into the dying light, like it was no big deal, because it wasn’t . . . not yet. That was a mistake, she realized later. She should have told someone—anyone—that she was going outside. Into the twilight. By herself.
