Bicycles leaned against fences. Lawns were freshly cut. The same quiet sounds filled the air—distant voices, a passing car, the hum of a summer afternoon.

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Mary had come to know these patterns well.

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That’s why she noticed it.

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The car had been there before. Parked along the curb, just far enough away to feel unremarkable… and yet, not quite part of the neighborhood either. It didn’t belong to anyone she knew. No one seemed to come or go from it.

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Mary paused as she walked past, the small brown dog at her side. She didn’t feel afraid. But she didn’t ignore it, either.

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Aunt Gertie’s question returned to her, as clearly as if it had just been asked:

What did you notice?

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Mary glanced once more at the car, then continued on her way.

The world, she was beginning to understand, was full of small details—some familiar, some not. And sometimes, the difference between them mattered.

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She reached down and gently scratched behind the dog’s ears.

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There was still so much to see.

And now, she was paying attention.