Mason

I stared at the text for a while, waiting for her to add something else, but she didn't.

I sent back, Do you think coyotes?

She read it and didn't answer.

That annoyed me more than it scared me at first.

I was out there doing her a favor, and if there was some real danger, I felt like she owed me an explanation.

I almost called her, but I didn't want to sound dramatic.

So I did what most people do when they're nervous and don't want to admit it.

I acted normal.

I fed the dogs early.

I brought in extra water.

I checked the locks before the sun went down.

I closed every blind in the house.

I kept my phone charged.

Then I found the shotgun in the bedroom closet, but I didn't touch it.

I don't know much about guns, and the last thing I wanted was to make things worse by playing with one.

By 7.30, it was dark.

Not city dark.

Real dark.

The kind where the windows become black rectangles, and you can see your own reflection better than anything outside.

I had the TV on low, mostly for background noise, and I was sitting on the couch with my laptop open.