One rare day the sun sliced through the barren sky, producing a curious effect. When its rays fell across the orbs’ faces, their features came into focus. It was during one of these moments while she was returning with her bundle of sticks that she thought she saw him. The one who took her voice so long ago. She had been walking in an unfamiliar area of the city, seeking more scrap wood to fill out her meager bundle. In her search, she’d come upon a band of stray cats in an alleyway. Crouching down, she lured them to her with her silence. The sun crept like a shifty bandit through the alley, a dirty yellow light, obscene in this new world of muted color. The cats mewed and rubbed against her legs. Suddenly the light vanished. She raised her eyes and saw him standing there, filling the space between the buildings. He held the crook of a water jug in one hand and a walking stick in the other. Sensing her fear, the cats retreated farther into the alley. She stayed in place, her limbs quivering. He peered in at her, his eyes piercing the alley’s gloom. And then the sun faded, taking his features with it. He turned and walked away, just another faceless orb on a mundane mission. It was a mere glimpse—she could’ve been wrong—but as she walked home she felt a shawl of worry wrap itself tight around her narrow shoulders.