This was the last day anyone would be able to visit the Catskill Game Farm. The next day they’d start to send away the animals, to other zoos, or back into the wild, or god-knows-where. Even the animals knew what was going on, you could tell from the look in their eyes. Or at least Anya could. “Look,” she whispered to her older brother Frederic. “That giraffe is crying.” He rolled his eyes at the four-year-old girl. “Come on, mom’s waiting for us,” he said, annoyed with his sister. “Animals are stupid anyway.” “NO, you’re stupid. You don’t get it because you’re just a stupid teenager. You think you know everything, but you don’t know ANYTHING . Especially about animals,” Anya said, frustrated. How could he be so ignorant? “It’s time to go,” he said, uncaring. She sighed. She turned back to the animals. “Goodbye, Mr. Giraffe. Goodbye, everyone.” She waved a little, then got in the car. As they pulled away, she could’ve sworn she saw a tear trickle down the side of the giraffe’s face.