Vanished

The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that blankets the suburbs after the last porch light flickers out. ​ Waneta C. Webb stood in her kitchen, the citrusy tang of her drink lingering on her fingertips. ​ She had always loved the calm of these moments—the hum of the refrigerator, the faint rustle of leaves outside, the comforting predictability of her home. ​ But tonight, something felt off. ...