1
Penny burned a bagel in the toaster so she cracked open a window—just a few inches, just enough to keep the smoke alarms from going off. It was the start of a mystery that took many months to unravel: She remembered closing the window before leaving home for the grocery store. But two hours later, she returned to her kitchen and discovered the window still open. Even though she was certain (absolutely positive!) she’d closed it. (Hadn’t she?)
It was the middle of February, and the temperatures had been stuck in the twenties all week. Everyone was talking about the blizzard, and tonight it was finally happening, a massive whiteout expected to dump eighteen inches across Philadelphia. Action News was calling it “Snowmageddon” and warning residents to charge their cell phones because power failures were expected. All the schools closed early, and now the mayor was urging residents to get home and stay home and keep off the roads. Penny had run over to the Acme to stock up on last-minute provisions: coffee, oatmeal, a fresh bag of cat treats. Plus a single Powerball ticket for her boyfriend, Dean, because the jackpot had just crossed a billion dollars. But everyone else had the same idea, so the aisles were mobbed with panicky customers. She had to wait forty-five minutes just to get through the checkout line.
And now she was home and her kitchen window was open and the first floor of the house was thoroughly chilled.
You must have forgotten, Penny decided, and then she pushed the window closed, frustrated by her own carelessness. All the first-floor windows had steel security bars to stop thieves from getting inside and stealing their stuff. But many of the windows were missing screens, and the steel bars did nothing to stop her cat from getting out.
“Popcorn?” she called. “Where are you, baby?”
Normally, the cat came running downstairs as soon as Penny unlocked the front door. Normally, the cat welcomed her home like a dog, wagging her tail and pleading for attention.
“Hellooooo?” She shook the plastic pouch of treats, gave it a nice loud rattle. “Come on, Popster. I bought a big bag of your favorites.”
She listened for sounds of movement upstairs. The house was a classic nineteenth-century Philadelphia row home—three stories tall with tiny bedrooms, shallow closets, squeaky hardwood floors, and minimal insulation. In other words, you couldn’t cough or sneeze or hiccup without giving away your location.
But today, the house was utterly silent.
“Popcorn?”
2
Don’t panic, she told herself.
She’s gotta be here somewhere.
Penny hurried around the house and checked all of Popcorn’s favorite hiding places: under the beds, inside the laundry hamper, behind the water heater, on top of the refrigerator. She opened her closets, peeked inside her sweater drawers, and checked the warm, flat surface of her laser printer. Finally, she went outside to the tiny backyard terrace. If her worst fears had come true—if Popcorn really had gone out the kitchen window—then she ought to be close by, lurking in one of the neighboring yards.
“Popcorn! Where are you, baby?”
The terrace was surrounded by ivy-covered brick walls for shade and privacy—and when Penny stood on her tiptoes, she could just peer over the tops of the walls to study the adjacent patios: nothing.
“Popcorn-Popcorn-Popcorn!”
She was struggling to stay calm. Her cat had an anxious temperament that was ill suited for city living. Everyday noises like the honk of a car horn or the clang of a trash can lid would trigger Popcorn’s flight instincts and send her sprinting in a mad panic. She was always happiest just loafing around the house. Which is why Penny never bothered keeping a collar or tags on her.
She considered calling Dean—but what was Dean going to do? He was away on business in Virginia Beach, and he’d already called home to say his return flight was canceled. Thanks to Snowmageddon, he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow or possibly even Wednesday, depending on when the airports reopened.
Penny went inside the house to put on a jacket. Then she opened the front door just in time to see a garbage truck thundering down the street and spraying clouds of rock salt out the back. The tiny pellets scattered from street to sidewalk, and a couple bounced over her sneakers and rolled through the open doorway.
On any normal afternoon, Windsor Walk was one of the most beautiful blocks in the city, an artfully preserved landmark of nineteenth-century urban design. Tourists driving down the street often stopped their cars and got out to take pictures. The matching brick row homes were lovingly restored with brightly painted wood shutters, colonial-era flags, and window boxes bursting with color. Tall, leafy zelkova trees brought shade to the sidewalks and filled the air with birdsong.
But today, the street was silent and drained of its usual vitality. Forecasters said the snow wouldn’t start until evening, but already the sky was a strange shade of gray, as if the storm was imminent. Penny walked down to the corner of Tenth Street, calling for her cat and shaking the bag of treats. Then she reversed direction and walked to the corner of Eleventh Street, taking time to scrutinize every inch of the sidewalk.
There were no obvious places for Popcorn to hide, which meant she must have bolted to an adjacent block. But which one? The neighborhood was a labyrinth of one-way streets, dark alleys, densely packed row homes, and private backyard gardens. Searching the area would take hours. Where would she even begin?
She took out her phone and started to message her best friend, Margo: Can u call me asap? Popcorn got out & I need to find her befor
She was interrupted by an icy pinprick at the back of her neck. She reached for the spot, and her fingers came away wet. Suddenly, there were little white crystals swirling all around her, soft fluffy flakes tumbling from the sky and spotting the street like polka dots.
Copyright © 2026 by Jason Rekulak
