Bob fears our new neighbor will be a giant cat with slitted eyes and a coiled tail. But Stella says a truck will arrive this afternoon carrying a baby elephant.
“How do you know?” I ask. I sample the air, but all I smell is caramel corn.
I love caramel corn.
“I can hear her,” Stella says. “She’s crying for her mother.”
I listen. I hear the cars charging past. I hear the snore of the sun bears in their wire domain.
But I don’t hear any elephants.
“You’re just hoping,” I say.
Stella closes her eyes. “No,” she says softly, “not hoping. Not at all.”