I wish I could scream out to her, let her know I’m here. I want to yell. I want her to come running. Running to me. I want to feel her soft, warm embrace. I want her caressing, steady hand holding me tightly.

But I cannot speak. My muteness curses me as I watch her. She rushes, more frantic with each passing moment. She’s pacing and searching, racing and lurching from spot to spot, thinking up more possibilities with each tick of the clock’s hand. I watch as her hopes are dashed and raised, and I long to reach her, but I cannot move.

In the middle of the room, she stops her search. She takes a large breath, closes her eyes, and folds her hands. I hear “Anthony” but don’t understand how this man will help; she’s the only one here.

And she’ll be late too if she doesn’t find me soon. I wish—I wish—but my wishes are helpless. Futile. I’ve got no Tile, no bell, and I’ll stilled, so what the hell. I can’t jingle or jangle. I’m silent. She can’t hear me.

She opens her eyes and walks towards me. I would still in anticipation if I had animation. Her hand reaches down, pushing cushions aside, crumbs wind their way under her fingernails, her digits brush against popcorn and loose change.

Then—truly! I feel her. Her soft, warm embrace. Her caressing, steady hand. I know she has me, and she knows, too. She smiles and plucks me free.

We rush out the door, me locking it behind. I open the car, start the engine, and she peels out of the driveway as I swing to the beat of the radio.