Pale sunlight illuminated the guest room, shining weakly onto the faded quilt. The patchwork was still rumpled, but the bed was made and the pillow propped up against the wall. Slowly the indentations in the covers lifted and the heat held in the just-leaned-on flowered pillowcase dissipated. The gradual filling out of the bedding tipped the thick paperback that was still open and with a faint breathy sound the pages flipped shut.
The room was still for a moment and then the frogs in the small aquarium on the dresser blinked, their eyes like bubbles at the shallow water’s surface. They all swam to the side where clay soil piled, climbing out onto the planted moss.
A trill. Then another. Then the chirruping chorus of small frogs filled the room as they came up out of the water, lined up at the glass, climbing each other so they all could see the bed from which Kimmie had just disappeared.