Wishes on the Wind

The air in Leo’s room hummed with a new kind of magic, a quiet shimmer that hadn’t been there before Melissa. She’d been with them for weeks now, a small, velvety shadow that flitted between their lives, her big, dark eyes taking in everything with a gentle curiosity. They’d grown accustomed to her presence, to the soft rustle of her movements, the way she’d curl up on Noah’s lap during story time, or chase dust bunnies with Sam during their rambunctious games. But today, something felt different.

It started with Maya, who was sketching Melissa by the window, capturing the subtle shifts of light on her dark fur. "You know," Maya mused, her pencil hovering over the paper, "she never seems to eat. Or sleep, not really. She just… is."

Leo, who was meticulously arranging his collection of polished stones, looked up. "She drinks water sometimes. And she definitely sleeps when she’s on Noah’s lap."