Juno couldn’t wait to call Solani. She needed an outlet for everything she had witnessed today — something too big to hold alone.
Later that evening, after Lupi was fed and dry and curled up on her blanket, Juno slipped into her room and closed the door quietly behind her.
She dialed Solani.
Solani answered on the first ring.
“Did that really happen?” Juno whispered into the phone.
Solani let out a breathy laugh. “I don’t know. But I can’t stop thinking about it.”
They talked in hushed voices about the storm, the moth, the lantern‑path, the puddles showing memories, the way the world folded like watercolor.
Every time one of them paused, the other filled the silence with something they remembered.
Juno asked, “Where’s the book now?”
“I put it on my dresser when I came in,” Solani said quickly. “I won’t open it without everyone there.”
Even saying it, she felt butterflies in her stomach.
“Are you scared?” Juno asked, hesitating before the question left her mouth.
“No… but nervous,” Solani admitted. She took a breath. “It felt like the book was alive.”
“It felt like it knew things about us,” she added softly.
“Do you think it knows more?” Juno asked, curiosity threading through her voice.
“I don’t know,” Solani murmured — and then let out a sudden yawn.
They didn’t have answers.
But they had each other.
Friends.
And that was enough for tonight.