Night Owls

Jerry glanced down at the photograph in his hand, then back up again at the woman sitting alone at the back of the cafe.

It was her. Different, of course, with a modern haircut, an understated, expensive chic. A far cry from the freckled face grinning out of the old, browned photograph. In his mind’s eye the cafe melded with the dusty plains of the depression era dust bowl. He’d found her. At last.

All at once a blinding light coursed through the space. Jerry and the woman froze. And then a creature appeared, seemingly from the air itself.

Its cloven hooves tapped lightly on the floor, achingly out of place, this wild creature. It raised its head, antlers covered in feathery green fronds and showed them its face. Beside him, Jerry heard the woman gasp, or perhaps it was a sob. Nothing would ever be the same again.