I had to go out for a while, but I want to see you again, and I don’t know where you live. I’ll stop by the farm, but if you come here, leave me your number or address, or call me (404-555-4447). There’s a pencil in the mailbox!

Leah

When I arrived at the farm, there was no sign of Jasper. I searched everywhere I could think of, up the creek and down. I checked the swing and the garden, with no luck. Finally, I stood there, brownies in hand, feeling gloomy, and figured I’d just have to go home.

Then I looked around me. There was the bright green hill of high grass and the red clay bank of the creek. I heard a trilling birdsong I didn’t recognize in the trees over my head, and noticed a hill of fire ants, busy at my feet. All around me, the world was happening, and it seemed wrong to go home so soon. Jasper wouldn’t go home, would she? I thought. And it was true. What would Jasper do?

She’d go somewhere. She’d do something. I wasn’t sure what, but something. I was sure if it. So I did another thing I hadn’t done in a long time: I left the neighborhood. I took Mercer back out to Woodland and started along my usual path, but after a minute, I headed east. I waited at the light and, when it changed, made my way across the four crazy lanes of Moreland Avenue, into East Atlanta Village.

I walked slowly, peering in the windows of all the businesses, where people were talking and shopping and bustling around, and it was fascinating, like watching TV almost. I’d walked this same street a thousand times before, of course, but after weeks alone, everything seemed so busy. The cars passing by felt faster and louder than I remembered them. Each time a door opened and someone stepped out onto the sidewalk from a store or bar, music trailed after them into the street. A different song every time.

As I pulled open the door of the coffee shop, I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been to Joe’s. I tried to think back, and what I came up with was Sam in this place, with hot chocolate or lemonade, depending on the season. How many times had we sat here together on the worn-out sofa, while Mom ran to the post office or the copy shop? Sam making annoying sounds at his iPad, and me pretending not to know him in case someone I knew came in.