Emma and the Alley Cat Charlie

The small apartment was alive with the clatter of pots and the gentle drumming of rain. Emma dragged herself from bed, her school tie hanging lopsided. Grandma was at the stove, making breakfast. “You’re gonna miss the bus again!” she called. Emma groaned, dropping her head onto the table. Grandpa peered over his newspaper, amused. Back in his day, kids woke before the sun, he declared, making Emma playfully retort about dinosaurs. Laughter filled the warm room.

Headphones on, Emma walked toward school. Cars splashed through puddles while other students chatted happily. She walked alone, kicking tiny rocks. Her usual shortcut was a narrow alley, quiet except for dripping water and the hum of distant traffic. Suddenly, a loud metal crash echoed from deeper within. Emma froze. “Nope,” she mumbled. “This feels like a story where I should turn around.” She started to leave, but then, a weak little meow reached her ears.