Sampei had gone to stay with his uncle. Father was still at the police station. Mother had left earlier for town. It was lonely and eerie, but Zenta had no choice. He had to watch the house.
A loquat tree stood next to the porch. As he moped around the yard, Zenta spied two tree frogs at the fork in its trunk. There was a big one and a small one. Lined up like good friends, they seemed plastered to the tree. They didn't blink their eyes. They didn't move. Could they be alive?