That morning, the sunlight crept through the broken window, casting golden streaks across the dusty floor.
Daniel sat cross-legged, holding the old rotary phone in one hand and Lily in the other.
She felt… too still.
Too quiet.
“Lily?” he whispered, gently shaking her.
No giggle.
No sleepy murmur.
Just silence.
His heart began to pound.
“Lily, wake up…” he pleaded, his voice cracking.
When she didn’t move, something inside him broke.
That’s when he grabbed the phone.
He didn’t know who to call.
He only remembered numbers his dad used to dial—random pieces of memory that didn’t quite fit together.
So he dialed anyway.
One number. Then another.
Nothing.
Until finally…
A click.
“Hello?” a voice answered.
Daniel’s breath caught in his throat.
“Dad?” he asked instinctively.
“No, sweetheart. This is Mrs. Greene. Who is this?”
Mrs. Greene.
The name sounded familiar.
And then it hit him—the kind old woman who lived two houses down. The one who used to bring cookies on Sundays.
Daniel’s voice trembled as the words spilled out.
“Mrs. Greene… it’s Daniel… My little sister won’t wake up. We haven’t eaten in days…”
There was a pause.
Then a sharp intake of breath.
“Oh my goodness,” she whispered. “Stay right there, Daniel. I’m coming.”
