Heather began to worry about the Meyersons. For the last four or five days, newspapers had begun to pile up in their driveway. The paperboy had started to pile them into an orderly heap resembling a fort. They hadn’t mentioned going on vacation.
One evening, she finally decided to walk across the wide stripe of grass separating her yard from the Meyersons’ and knock on the front door.
She was startled when it opened quickly. Rick stood in the doorway, wearing a blue turtleneck that looked a little warm for the day.
"Hey there, Sara," he said. His eyes looked different, but she couldn’t put her finger on how.
"Hi," Sara said. "Sorry to bother you, I—"
"Anything wrong, Sara?” Rick said, unblinking.
“Oh—sorry, no,” Sara said, and tried to smile. “I just noticed your newspapers—“
There was a shuffling sound behind Rick, and Bobby’s head poked out below Rick’s armpit. He stared up at her.
"Oh hi, Bobby—"
Then Julia appeared a second later, head somehow too close to Rick’s, face too still.
Heather’s heart began to hammer. “I was just telling Rick—”
The three of them stared with black eyes at her, blank as a doll’s, saying nothing.
Slowly, Bobby’s mouth widened into a toothless smile.