“I bet he’s in the pumpkin patch.” But the Duck was not in the pumpkin patch. They could not find him anywhere.
So they waited...All that long afternoon... The Cat watched the door. The Squirrel paced the floor. “The Duck will be sorry when he comes home,” they muttered. But the Duck didn’t come home. Not even at soup time.
“Now he sits alone in his room, a sixteen-year-old boy, waiting for her to call. Wishing for her to tell him it was real. It was as perfect as he imagined.
But the phone sits silently.”