The blizzard came without warning. By nightfall, the quiet town of Cedar Falls, Minnesota, was buried under a sea of white. The wind screamed through the fields, turning every shadow into a ghost. But for Walter Thompson, a retired mail carrier who prided himself on never missing his evening walk, the storm didn’t matter. He had survived worse winters. Or so he thought.

Bundled in his thick coat, scarf pulled tight, Walter trudged along the familiar country road behind his farmhouse. His boots sank deep into the snow with every step. He told himself he’d turn back soon, but stubbornness kept him going. The world had grown so small since his wife passed this walk was his last piece of freedom. Then, out of nowhere, pain gripped his chest. A deep, searing pain that stole his breath. He stumbled, clutching at his heart. His vision spun as the world tilted sideways. The snow rose to meet him, cold and heavy, as everything went black. The wind howled. The road emptied. Minutes turned to hours. No one came. But in the distance, a faint shape moved across the fields a small orange blur, weaving through the storm. It was a stray cat.

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