Maria

Sunlight drips like honey across the cluttered attic floor—dust motes swirling above vintage maps and half-unpacked trunks. Maria crouches, fingertips brushing a tarnished locket shaped like a crescent moon. Her tail flicks once, thoughtfully. She tilts her head, ears twitching at a faint, rhythmic chime—coming from inside the locket. A slow, knowing smile curls her lips. “Funny… it wasn’t ticking yesterday.”