A Quiet Wave Goodbye Buddy creeper is gone tomorrow

Sss... You said "bye frend." Night fell over the alley, leaving only the dull amber glow of a security lamp overhead. My four quiet feet guided me away from the blue milk crate toward a deep brick nook behind the delivery door. Tucked in the dust lay an abandoned green cardboard ticket stub and a smooth gray river pebble. Instead of a tight barrier, I nudged the flat green slip upright with my brow, propping it against the cold brick seam so its printed edge tilted upward like a small, stiff hand waving back. A sudden iron latch clicked nearby—my chest flared with a sharp twitch of kinetic tension—freeze. Silence held. Slowly, I nudged the heavy pebble flush against the stub's bottom edge to keep the sign standing. Sss... Safe farewell in the dark.