It was indeed Luna standing before him. For a second, he thought it was a mirage, a mere hallucination. The pain of being wrong would have hurt George even more. He distinctly remembered the day Luna went missing.
It was a fine Tuesday morning, and George had been tending to the farm, collecting weeds to feed the cattle later. With precise strokes, he swished his sickle, collecting fresh grass and weeds for his cows. Usually, Luna accompanied him, but since the farm door had gotten loose two weeks ago, Luna spent most of her time tending to the cattle, ensuring they didn’t run out of their enclosure.