The sun dropped behind the hills and the whole lane went quiet. The old wooden house sat at the foot of them, its creaky front door standing ajar, thin smoke curling from the chimney.
The creaky door swung wide with a groan. On the doorstep, in the new dark, a tiny lantern glowed soft orange. It sat there, perfectly still, like it had been waiting.
Willa crouched low, her fingertips stretching toward the warm glass. The lantern gave a little wobble, slow and gentle, like it was waving. She held her breath.
Willa tiptoed down the porch steps, one careful foot at a time. She looked past the garden, up the long lane, all the way to the rolling hills. Nothing moved. Not even the wind.
Willa cupped her hands around her mouth and called, "Hello?" The word bounced off the wooden walls, round and round, and came back all alone.
Willa carried a small cup of warm cocoa back up the steps. She set it down, carefully, right next to the glowing lantern. The cocoa swirled, leaving little brown spirals.
Wind whooped through the gap in the door. The lantern tipped, tipping, TIPPING. Willa slammed her shoe flat on the wood and cocoa sloshed hot over the boards. She smoothed the cup back into place with both hands.
The lantern's glow puffed up, wide and round, painting the whole porch in gold. A tiny pop, sharp like a cracker in the dark, and the light stretched a little further.
The lantern leaned toward the cup. A soft, rumbly "mmmm" floated out, thick and warm. Willa clapped both hands over her mouth and just stood there.
Morning light spilled over the hills, pale and new. The cup sat empty, just a thin brown ring. A little gold speck shimmered on the board. Willa lifted the cup, tipped it at the speck, and whispered, "See you tomorrow."