Point of No Return - Part One
A/N: Hi. So I have not been able to stop thinking about Ezra and Cee and the world that they inhabit in the film Prospect since I first watched it a few months back. My initial reaction to the movie was that I craved more from that world. There is so much rich detail and background for the story to take root in and the characters (and what they have been through) were so compelling to me that it left me with so many questions. Who was Ezra before he runs into Cee? What did he leave behind to peruse his goals on the Green? Who could Cee become without the constant shadow of her father looming over her? With someone supportive in her life instead? What other types of prospecting or harvesting jobs are there out there and what drove Ezra to Aurelac? What other kinds of weird food items and technology exist in this world?! So... I let my imagination go a little off the rails and this was the result.
This story is honestly a blast for me to write so I truly hope that if you read it you enjoy it. Please feel free to ask me any questions or let me know what you think. If you would like to be added to this taglist just send me a message or leave me a comment and I will gladly add you! :)
Warnings: discussion of death, injuries, illness, loss
Summary: It’s been five long years since Clara last saw Ezra, the man she loved with more of herself than she ever thought possible, the two falling apart under the weight of a heavy loss in the family. Most of the time she has enough work on her Thulian farm to keep her thoughts from him, but the harvest season always dredges up memories both precious and painful. She tries to push the emotions away to focus on her work, but when she receives a message from a mysterious caller it becomes clear that that will simply be impossible this time.
Word Count: 5.8k
It wasn’t quite morning yet.
Only a sliver of the harvest star was visible over the horizon, its bright amber light muted by the lingering vestiges of night. Soon it would rise fully, igniting the landscape with its burning orange glow and seemingly setting the Thulian Grass ablaze. Dawn cracked quickly into day during the harvest season, giving farmers longer hours to cut back the stalks and collect the ripened pollen. For now though, the fields that surrounded the small house still appeared to be a soft dusty rose color, the tops of the tall grass ruffling in the cool breeze.
Clara stifled a yawn against the backs of her bent fingers as she headed down the creaky stairs. It was dark and quiet in the house and there was no reason other than habit for her to be hiding her sleepiness. Abe didn’t care if she was tired so long as his bowl was full, and it would be hours before the grumpy old cat would move from his preferred nesting spot in the bedroom’s window seat. Lazy beast. The farm hands stayed in a loft over the barn that her father had converted into living quarters years ago, when the farm was in its prime and they’d needed extra help almost year round. It comfortably housed up to ten, though now only half that many workers occupied the space for just a few weeks at a time. Aside from Clara and the cat, the rest of the house was empty.
She let another yawn slip out, this one unhindered as she brought both hands up to scoop her hair back, fingers deftly winding an elastic band around it. Securing her shoulder length chocolate brown waves in a ponytail, she pulled it tight as she descended the last few steps. A few strays got wound around and between her ring and middle fingers and she pulled them loose with a sigh. What’s a few more grays gone? Wiggling her digits she let the strands fall free and reached the bottom of the staircase, immediately turning left into the small kitchen.
Through the circular window above the sink she could see the light on in the loft, a pinprick of golden yellow across the sea of pink in the pre-dawn. Siggi’s got ‘em up already. She smiled and flicked the wall switch to light up the room. Good. The lost and confused 19 year old college dropout who had turned up looking for work during the harvest season seven years ago and had never so much as held a shovel let alone swung a sickle had developed into quite the farmer, proving to himself and everyone that the scholastic route had never been for him. Even when her father had to retire and they had to downsize the operation, Clara kept Siggi on as the full time manager- the only other full timer apart from herself. While he still stayed in the loft for the three weeks during harvest, he had moved into an apartment over the hill in town with his girlfriend, making the forty five minute commute for the rest of the year by hovercar.
He didn’t know it yet, but at the close of the current season Clara planned on talking to him about his interest in buying the farm from her one day. It’s gotta go to someone. She couldn’t think of anyone else she’d want her family’s property to go to. She had a cousin with two kids on Central but his only interest in the land would be in selling it, the man telling her so point blank. It didn’t surprise her since he had never actually set foot there, but keeping the farm within the family was less important to Clara than making sure it went to someone who would continue to care for it as she had. With Seth gone and no children of her own, she couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather it go to than Siggi. It won’t be for another nine or ten years at least but… She sighed, opening the cabinet above the sink and pulling down the large white canister of high-caf tea. But it would give him time to save if he is interested and- she peeled the lid off the canister, spooning three heaping scoops of the dried leaf powder into the brew pouch on the counter kettle. And it would make me feel better knowing it was going to him and not developers or contractors.
Frowning, she was reminded of what happened with Briggs’ farm, just a few miles from her own front door, when the man became too old and sick to work and couldn’t keep up the payments. With no one to take the reins from him, the land had gone up for auction, ending up in the hands of some rich Central asshole like her cousin. Last year, for the entire three week harvest while she and Siggi and the other seasonal hires toiled in the Thulian fields, they were treated to the constant grinding and pounding of construction machinery as it ripped up Briggs’ once fruitful farm and readied it to be built up into luxury condominiums. I won’t let that happen. Not to my fields. Not… Clara jammed the start button on the kettle, swallowing a lump of emotion before shaking her head. Stop it, Clara, it’s too damn early for that.
With the Aurelac rush drying up though, prospectors, freighter captains, jewelers, investors and anyone else who had made their money in the rare root gems were cashing out and looking for places to spend their wealth in comfort. Kamrea was a first choice for many of them, and for many reasons. It was a temperate planet with only a few weeks of what could be considered winter weather, the air was breathable, the water potable, and the ground exceptionally fertile, Thulian, Crater-Apples, Potatoes, countless herbs and a cornucopia of other produce grew in abundance there. Its close proximity to Central, where most of the galaxy’s Aurelac crews took off for the Bakhroma System, also meant that a large Kamrean population worked in the industry. It was why finding seasonal help on the farm was never a problem during the height of the rush- men and women from all over the galaxy had made the planet their temporary home between runs to the Green Moon, finding themselves in need of work between digs.
Like Ezra.
The kettle hissed, steam beginning to rise as the dark purple liquid started dripping into the waiting thermos, and though the air that came through the open windows was warm Clara shivered. She placed her hands on the countertop and closed her eyes. If she took a deep breath and tuned out all but the sound of the tea brewing, she could call back a memory that was almost strong enough to feel- His arms winding around her from behind, lips brushing first along her shoulder whether she was wearing a shirt with sleeves or not, then landing close to her ear as he pressed his body to hers. His scent, like the forest and the fields, the stream and clean sweat mixing with the herbal smell of the tea and completely intoxicating her as she leaned back into his broad chest. “You know, you make it exceedingly difficult for me sometimes, Huckleberry”. The tip of his nose tracing the edge of her ear before his patchy beard raked along the skin behind it as she, breathless, struggled to ask him what it was she made so difficult. “Determining whether I am awake-“ A kiss to her temple, his arms tightening around her. “-Or still only dreaming of having you in my embrace.”
Opening her eyes she felt the warmth that steeping in the memory had given her leave in a rush. It always did, always hurting more than the ache she’d used it to soothe. This season would mark five years since the last time she’d stood on the porch and watched him go. Since he left. Since I… The kettle finished brewing, clicking as the drip stopped abruptly. Since I told him not to come back until he was done with… She could feel the sting of tears forming in the corners of her eyes and forcibly blinked them back. It was without a doubt her biggest, heaviest regret and it weighed on her heart most ruthlessly at this time of year, the season that had brought him to her and that had also become the annual reminder of his departure from her life.
Pulling the first thermos from the kettle, she twisted the cover on before any of the heat could escape. She went on autopilot then, setting it aside and replacing it with a second, going about the process and scooping more powder into the brew pouch. She had two more to fill after after that to ensure the whole crew had enough energy to get through the long shift. Clara had very few rules on the farm, but one that she was adamant about was that stim chew was not allowed on the premises. She was happy to provide as much high-caf tea as her crew could drink though, the natural substance working just as well to invigorate without giving the user shakes and headaches. And it wasn’t addictive.
She used the time to pull herself together. Stupid. She knew the risk that came with thinking about him, giving in to such a powerful memory about the man she still loved so powerfully no matter how they’d both let each other down in those last few months before he left. Her pain, her anger, the things she felt when she had told him not to come back if he was going on the path he had laid out for her, they were real and she didn’t blame herself for feeling them. She was grieving, not just for Seth, but for Ezra, too. He wasn’t the same after… And then that next trip, when he- An uneven breath burst from her lips, the next few coming out the same way. I never should have let him go back after we lost Seth.
She sniffed, wiping at her eyes with the heels of her palms, blotting the rest of that thought from her mind. His decisions were clouded by grief then, too. She saw that now, understood it. He loved her brother just as much as she did, and he had taken that loss extremely hard. So hard that he couldn’t be there for her, or at least that’s what he had convinced himself of. I wasn’t there the way he needed me to be either though. I… pushed him away. And I never pulled him back.
She switched out the thermos again, twisting the lid on, setting it down, the grainy sound of the scoop moving through the tea powder punctuating the silence as she refilled the brew pouch a third time. Outside the sky was lightening to a pale whitish blue, roughly one third of the harvest Star peeking over the curve of the planet. She’d lived there all her life but it was still breathtaking how quickly the enormous orb appeared in the sky this time of year, how with each blink it rose higher and got brighter until suddenly your eyes couldn’t drink the vivid colors in quickly enough, everything as bright as it had ever been intended to be. It was beautiful and it made her thankful to call the place her home.
Though without Ezra, without Seth, could she really call it that?
Yes. The thought came swiftly as she watched the fields come alive in vibrant hues of pink, flecks of pollen starting to shine in the first rays of light. She felt it in her chest, a swelling that made her take a breath. It made her conscious of her own heartbeat. This is where she and Seth grew up, running through the hollow Thulian stems in the winter or collecting smooth stones from the stream after the rainy season. This is where she learned everything she knew about farming and hard work from her father, the man also teaching her to save time for joy and celebration. This is where she met Ezra, where they spent three years so deeply and fully in love that she could still feel him after more than that much time apart. If this wasn’t her home, filled with all of that, then she never had one.
By the time she placed the fourth thermos under the kettle the kitchen was bathed in radiant harvest light. A slight orange tinge touched everything as the Star finally rose completely over the horizon. Clara turned back towards the doorway and reached out to click the light switch off. Artificial light was only necessary a few hours a day during the harvest weeks. It would still be light out when they finished work for the day, all of them likely falling into bed before needing to turn on a lamp once it finally got dark at night. Turning back around she saw that Siggi had doused the loft light, too. They’re probably heading down now. She gave herself until the final thermos was full to finish composing her emotions, closing them off as she twisted the lid on.
There was hard work to be done, and it required her full attention and awareness. The tools they used to harvest the puffy pink pollen sacks were sharp and she’d seen with her own eyes what they could do in the hands of someone who wasn’t thinking clearly. For her own safety and for that of her fellow harvesters, she couldn’t bring those feelings- the way she ached with regret and how badly she missed him and how thoroughly terrified it made her to wonder why he had still not come back- into the fields. There was no place for it there, not now.
She packed the four thermoses of tea and a few reusable cups into a large satchel along with a small case of Bits Bars. They weren’t her first choice but they were fast, available nutrition for the long day. Full of flavor, the package boasted. Kevva knows that’s a lie. She rolled her eyes. As soon as the season was wrapped up she always cooked a huge meal for the whole team, and anyone who had ever worked for Clara or her father knew that they had a place at her table for any and all holidays. But no one complained about the provided rations during the season, so she tried not to feel guilty about the offering.
Adding a first aid field kit to the bag, she closed it and set it down on the small table before stooping to open the lower cabinet. Most importantly… Pulling out the bag of kibble, she filled Abe’s bowl in the corner of the kitchen and refreshed his water. Alright, your highness, you’re all set. She smiled to herself as she stowed the kibble. Though the rotund striped orange cat spent most of his time snoozing in the window and typically couldn’t be bothered with the goings on of daily life on the farm, he was affectionate towards Clara, jumping into her lap at the end of the day, rubbing his chin on her knuckles and generally giving her something to look forward to. Ezra used to joke about the cat’s laziness, citing the one occasion when Abe had actually stood by and allowed a family of channel rats to move into the basement, but Clara knew that the man had a soft spot for her pet, even as he grumbled about having to deal with the pests himself. Though he’d been born feral, Clara finding him as a kitten, yowling alone in the barn, Abe had never been a hunter. Without his bowl of kibble he would be completely lost. But despite his pacifist, helpless nature meaning that she could never count on him to keep rodents out, Clara would be lost without the little furry lump, too.
Abe taken care of for the day and the necessary supplies packed, she slung the bag over her shoulder and headed out the back door onto the porch that wrapped around the old farmhouse. The field directly to the right of the house had already been processed, the pink pollen stored in the silver silo attached to the barn, ready to be tumbled and bagged as soon as the other two fields had been harvested. The sweet smelling powder was used in a number of products ranging from paint to perfume either to add fragrance or color, and because Clara kept with her father’s method of only using natural fertilizers, the Thulian farmed on her property was even rated for use in food and drink. Though the field that was finished was the smallest, she and the team had made good time with it, getting it squared away in only four days and giving themselves a bit of a cushion when it came to getting the other two larger fields done. The time crunch really only applied while the pollen was still on the stalk, the ripening process halting as soon as the sacks were sliced from the tops. But having a little bit of leeway took some of the pressure off and that made keeping morale up much easier.
Once Clara had turned the corner, coming around to the front of the house, she saw Siggi striding across the field, dragging harvesting equipment behind him. He raised one arm over his head, the bright light glinting off his flaxen hair as he waved to her. She returned the gesture, then pulled the bandana that was tied around her neck up over her mouth and nose. The Thulian wasn’t toxic, but it made your nostrils and throat tickle if inhaled in large quantities. It also stained skin and hair and clothing, especially when mixed with sweat, but there wasn’t much to be done about that aside from much needed showers at the day’s end. Ready for work, she walked down off the porch and made her way towards where her team was setting up at the far side of the middle field.
Had she waited just a second or two longer she may have heard the beep coming from the communicator screen that hung next to the light switch near the door in the kitchen. The call that came through then might have been answered instead of being directed to her inbox, continuing to beep every thirty seconds until the message was retrieved and played.
Eight hours later, Clara trudged back up to the house to refill two of the tea thermoses, this time with cold water. Wiping the back of her hand across her sweat slicked forehead, she could feel the pink powder leaving a rosy streak across her skin. Yanking the bandana down off her face, she licked her dry lips and opened the door to the kitchen. The air cooling system whirred gently and the conditioned air hit her face instantly as she stepped inside, drying the smudge of pollen on both her face and over her knuckles. It was a hot one, and she was glad to step inside for water and for the reprieve. She’d told Siggi and the others to take a break in the shade until she returned, and peering out the circular window she could see them sprawled out in the open doorway of the barn. Good.
As soon as she placed the thermoses in the sink to rinse them out, Abe came scuttling into the kitchen, meowing loudly and circling her ankles. She bent down to stroke his hunched back as he continued to cry out. “Hey Mister, what’s got you all in a-”
But the beep of the message indicator on the communication screen cut off the rest of her question, and she rose, turning in the direction of the machine. Abe didn’t like the sound that the machine made when there was a message waiting, she knew that. “Sorry, little guy,” she muttered to the cat as she walked over to the wall to stop the sound. He meowed back and she had to laugh at how animated he was. “I know, I know, I’m the worst, leaving you alone with the big bad beep.” He headbutted her calf as she started entering her passcode to play the message, and as soon as he heard the automated voice of the inbox menu, he trotted happily out of the kitchen. Clara shook her head, still chuckling at the cat, his heavy footsteps still audible from the next room.
Sighing, she pressed the play button, ready to hear some recording pertaining to new market guidelines or offers from developers looking to purchase her land. She leaned casually against the doorframe, finger hovering over the delete button, ready to press it if her assumptions were correct. Who else would it be anyway? The machine beeped, and the message played.
There was a pause, only a shaky breath coming through the speaker, but already enough to tell her that the message was not a recording. Dropping her hand away from the screen, she looked more closely at the number, the three digit code at the beginning making her forehead crease with confusion. 763? That’s… Double checking the chart that was installed on the screen, she confirmed what she had thought. That’s the Med Center on Central.
She had no time to process that information though, the caller finally speaking, the young female voice sounding thin and anxious. “H-hello? This...this message is for Clara.”
Who is that? Her heart pounded at the fear and uncertainty in this girl’s voice- this girl who knew her name and where to reach her. She stood up straight then, but kept her hold on the doorframe, a strange dizziness striking her as the message continued.
“Clara? I’m,” she took another shuddering breath and cleared her throat, “My name is Cee and I’m… I’m here on Central at the Med Center w-with,” a sharp inhale, a stunted release of air, “With a man named Ezra and-”
All the air in the room was gone as she heard his name, the walls falling away and the ceiling tumbling to the floor. Ezra. She heard the gasp that fell from her lungs as she tightened her grip on the frame, her knees buckling slightly. Ezra. He’s alive, he’s- She realized then that the message was still playing but the rushing in her ears had drowned it out and she couldn’t hear the rest of the girl’s trembling words. Wait. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision and brought a quivering hand up to the control panel to punch in the code that would restart the message. If she’s calling from the Med Center that means… Her blood ran cold as she stared at the machine intently this time, waiting to hear the rest of it.
“H-hello? This...this message is for Clara. Clara? I’m- my name is Cee and I’m… I’m here on Central at the Med Center w-with...with a man named Ezra and I- he...he needs your help.” There was another pause and Clara heard a sniff followed by a soft whine before the girl spoke again. “Please, I don’t know… there’s no one else for me to call. He’s...he’s hurt and...and sick and all I have is your contact information and-” Clara’s chest clenched as the girl’s words started coming more rapidly, the adrenaline that was shaking her voice causing the speed at which she spoke to double. “Please, if you don’t help him they’ll just...they’ll put him in the system and…” Clara shivered at the thought of Ezra or anyone she cared about being shoved off into the poorly run social system of healthcare. “Please, Clara, call this number back, please. He… the only thing he’s said in the last twenty four hours has been your name.”
Tears ran down her cheeks freely then despite not knowing when they started. She knew that they were leaving painted streaks of Thulian dye where they trailed but there was no stopping them. A small sob fought it’s way free even as she tried to silence it to take down the number that the girl, Cee, had given her. Ezra. She could feel his warm breath on the crest of her shoulder, his strong arms flexing around her, her heart absolutely jubilant to know that he was alive. But in the next beat she clenched her eyes closed as the message played again in her mind. He’s hurt and sick. A sudden terrible twisting sensation started up in her stomach then, and she was helpless against the thought that those words conjured- that the cruelty of the universe was about to rear its hideous head again and steal him from her the second she got him back. Another sob, this one more ragged, ripped itself free. Ezra…
There was no doubt in her mind or in her heart or her soul that she would be calling back. She knew without hesitation that she would do whatever was asked of her in order to provide what she could for the man. But even though she spent years wishing she could take back the last things she had said to him, his reemergence in her life, so shrouded with danger and darkness left her paralyzed. Once she had the number copied, she turned and slid her back down the wall until she plopped onto the ground, the room still spinning behind her closed eyes. Ezra.
She knew the man she met back when her father hired him, the man she had gotten to know throughout that season. She knew the man that she fell hard and fast in love with, and she knew the man who had come back broken once before. She knew the man she had loved and lost but she had no idea who this man was now. Would there be anything left of the Ezra she’d known? Was there anything left of her that he would recognize?
She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there, tears silently running down her face in pink streams, her eyes focused on the far wall, but it had been long enough to draw Siggi’s curiosity, Clara coming out of her stupor only when she registered the man kneeling in front of her and snapping his fingers.
“Clara? Hey, Clara, c’mon look at me, will ya?” There was concern in his voice, and as she blinked back to reality she saw it swirling in his eyes, too, their dark blue depths clearing only when he noticed that she seemed to notice him. “Hey,” she sighed in relief, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You scared me for a minute, thought you overheated there, boss.” Clara tried to respond but could only swallow the lump that formed in lieu of words. “Boss?” Siggi’s brow furrowed again, smudges of Thulian powder drying in the creases there. “Hey, Clara, what h-”
“It’s Ezra, Sig.” She was finally able to summon up enough vocal strength to respond, and even then her voice came out in a thin whisper, like the girl on the message. “He’s… he’s alive and I-” That was as much as she could get out before her eyes swam and tears clogged up her throat again. It was as much as he needed- Siggi had been there for most of their relationship. Ezra had even contributed quite a bit to his training on the farm the first year he was there, Siggi developing a sort of mentorship with the man for the short while they worked together. And he knew how it had wrecked Clara when he had left five years ago.
“Oh, shit, Clara…” She felt his hand squeeze the top of her shoulder as he sat next to her before opening his arm for her to lean into him, transitioning from employee to friend- family- in that moment. He let her cry into his shirt, not caring that it was soaking pink stains into the collar. After a few hefty sobs left her empty for the time being, he spoke again. “Listen, I’m gonna go back out with the guys and finish up for the day.” He pulled back and made her look him in the eye as he continued. “You take all the time you need, call whoever you have to call and… if you haveta go anywhere, Clara, you go, hear me?” He nodded confidently and she tearfully nodded back. “Me’an the team’ll take care of whatever we have to.”
I know you will, Sig. She leaned forward and hugged the young man who reminded her so much of Seth in so many ways, but who was so much himself in just as many. “Thank you,” she managed, knowing that he’d hear everything those two words really meant. He helped her up off the floor then, and she waited until he had refilled the two water thermoses and left, the screen door swinging shut on its hinges behind him.
The air filtration system hummed and the screen on the wall, though no longer beeping, still flashed with the message that she hadn’t deleted yet. Clara played it one last time before calling back the number that this unknown girl had given her, trying to see if there were any clues she had missed that would tell her what to expect about Ezra’s current state. There were none, just the frightened, desperate way that Cee’s voice made her think of the sparrows that hopped and flitted among the branches of the crater-oak out back. Who are you, Cee?
Taking one final deep breath, Clara entered the combination of numbers that connected her to the Med Center on Central, and the case worker that had been assigned to Ezra.
Extensive bodily trauma resulting in field amputation and infection. A shallow chest wound that had also become infected. Damage to his lungs from the volume of toxic spores he had inhaled while on the Green Moon. She felt herself go numb as the woman on the other end of the phone rattled off the list of things that he was battling. He’d been put into a medically induced coma so that they could focus on bringing the fevers down and getting the infections under control, and as long as that happened within the next day, he would be released from Intensive Care. The case worker explained that Ezra had no other contact, no one else to come for him, and that if Clara couldn’t, or chose not to, he would be turned over to the social system… and so would the girl that had come in with him. She was a minor, and not his biological child, and unless Clara wanted to collect her as well, she’d go into foster care in one of the cities there on Central.
Ezra had only told her some of the stories of his childhood, he and his brother growing up bouncing from home to home, city to city, sometimes even to other planets and once, spending an entire year aboard a freighter without ever setting foot on solid soil. She shivered knowing that no matter who this child was to him, he wouldn’t want her being shoved off on someone else- not when she knew that he hadn’t even told her the worst of his memories. The ones he had shared were bleak enough.
“No, I’ll… I’ll come. For both of them I’ll…” She cleared her throat to speak more clearly, the woman asking her to repeat herself and confirm what she’d just said. “I’ll come.” She said evenly, somehow. “I’ll… tell me where to be and I...I’ll come.”
The woman responded positively, letting her know that she would need to be at the local Med Center there on Kamrea late afternoon the following day. If for some reason his condition worsened overnight and he was unfit for transport, they would give her a call in the morning with new information. If everything went well, the medical team would keep Ezra sedated long enough to get him to Kamrea and back to Clara’s home, the case worker ensuring that they would set her up with whatever medications and dressings she would need to continue to care for him. Her heart pounded in her ears as she agreed to it all, the woman finally asking Clara if she had any further questions.
“The girl?” She heard her own breathless voice ask. “Is… was she hurt at all? Is she sick, too?”
The case worker quickly answered that while the girl, 14, Cee, had also suffered some minor lung irritation from the toxins on the Green, and was slightly underweight and dehydrated upon arrival at the Med Center, she was otherwise in good health with no major injuries. Clara allowed herself a moment of calm, thankful that the girl, this scared, stranger, was alright.
“D-do you know how she...how they came to be traveling together?”
The woman only knew that the girl said her father had been killed on the Green, and that Ezra had protected her and helped her get off of the moon in time to catch the last slingback to the BG-Central freighter. Apparently she was in shock herself and wasn’t willing to say much to anyone, only that she wanted to stay with the unconscious man she arrived with. As there were no missing persons reports out for the girl, and the Med Center had dealt with teens orphaned on the Green before, they didn’t press her for questions, looking only for someone they could pass the problem along to.
“I’ll be there,” Clara stated again before hanging up.
Abe came sauntering back into the kitchen just as Clara entered the code that erased the message, the blinking light going dark. His gentle nudge with the top of his fuzzy head against her ankle was accompanied by a soft meow, as though he’d heard the entire conversation and knew what Clara was feeling at that moment. She let her breath out slowly as she stooped down to scoop the cat up, cuddling him close to her chest, careful not to get too much of the pink powder that coated her clothing on his fur.
“He’s coming home, Abe.” The cat purred at that. “Ezra. He’s coming home.”
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