It started one bright morning. Two siblings sat on the front steps, legs swinging, watching their parents walk down the path and promise. “We’ll be back soon.”

The sun climbed high, then slipped away. They waited through the golden hours, certain the next shadow on the road would be theirs.

Days turned to weeks, weeks to years. The laughter faded, but the waiting never did. They learned the seasons by the color of the sky, grew taller beside the same old door, and whispered to each other. “Maybe tomorrow.”

And though the world changed around them, they stayed — two silhouettes in the dawn, still waiting for that morning to end.