Martha gasped
Martha’s reaction was instant. She gasped and jerked backward, her hand flying to her mouth. Inside the box was a thick, pale-pink tail—thick like a snake, but smoother, segmented, and somehow… wrong. “What is that?” she blurted out, stumbling into the kitchen chair behind her. The tail twitched faintly, as if it had sensed her presence, sending a cold wave down her spine.
George slammed the lid shut, locking it firmly with a practiced motion. “It’s not a snake,” he said grimly, turning to face her. Their eyes met, and Martha saw something in his expression that made her stomach twist—uncertainty. “I don’t understand,” she whispered, her voice cracking. Her mind scrambled to make sense of the strange, alien sight now sealed behind metal and glass.
