us the furniture for five dollars.”
“Died?”
The man shrugged.
“Do I appear dead to you?”
I looked at the remnants of my home, my life—the little coffee table with its carved oak flowers at the edges. My father had made it, before he died. The two chairs, threadbare but comfortable. The white vase on the table where I’d display the wildflowers Daniel picked for me on walks along Fourth Avenue. My things. My life.
Taken.
Disinterested, the girl reached for her doll on the sofa and climbed the stairs. “Wait right there,” the man said to me, clearly annoyed. “Dinner’s boiling over on the stove.”
As soon as he left, I walked a few steps to the base of the stairs. A small chest of drawers had been wedged up against the wall, and I strained, attempting to move it forward until I found the secret compartment. I opened it and sighed. Daniel’s feather, shells. Memories wafted into the room and I wanted to linger in them, but I knew there wasn’t time. I reached into my bag and pulled out Max. I straightened the little bear’s blue bow and tucked him inside the space behind the wall. He belonged here. And Daniel would find him again. My heart told me that.
I heard footsteps behind me, and I closed the little door quickly, dropping my purse. I picked it up swiftly.
“What do you think you’re doing, miss?” the man said suspiciously.
“I was just—”
He frowned. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”
“Please,” I said, “if you see a little boy—”
“If I see
you
again, I’m going to report you to the police.”
The girl appeared in the room again and looked at me with sympathetic eyes before her father pushed me out into the hallway and closed the door with a loud thud.
Outside on the street, I surveyed my purse, grateful that my pocketbook, meager as it was, remained inside. Eva’s little drawing, however, hadn’t met such a fortunate fate.
It must have fallen out.
I walked numbly out to the sidewalk. Children bundled in warm coats played hopscotch on the street as mothers looked on. “Daniel!” I called out in vain. Seagulls flew overhead, swooping and squawking in a mocking manner. The world, and every creature in it, seemed cruel and uncaring.
“Vera, is that you?” a familiar voice called out from the sidewalk up ahead.
“Gwen?”
“Oh, honey,” she said. “I’ve been so worried about you. I just saw Caroline. She told me what happened. I’m so sorry.”
“He’s gone,” I said. The words sounded foreign as they crossed my lips, as if someone else had uttered them.
“What do you mean,
gone
?”
“When I came home from work, he wasn’t there,” I said, feeling the tears sting my eyes. “The police won’t do anything because they think he ran away, but Gwen, he would have never run away.”
She put her arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. “Look at you,” she said. “You’re a skeleton. Have you eaten?”
I shook my head.
She patted my arm. “There’s no sense crying out here in the cold. And you look like you haven’t eaten in days. Let me buy you a hot meal.”
My stomach growled. I hated that I had to stop to deal with hunger during a time like this, but I knew I’d be useless to Daniel passed out from weakness, so I obliged. “All right,” I said meekly.
Gwen and I walked to Lindgren’s, a little café in the Market where we used to dine, in happier times. “Two ham-and-gravy sandwiches,” she said to the waitress behind the counter.
When our food arrived, I ate absently, without tasting the flavors in my mouth. Experiencing pleasure felt wrong, somehow. Instead I took comfort in the numbness.
“Are you coming back to work?” Gwen asked cautiously.
I sighed. “I guess I’ll have to. That is, if I have a job waiting for me. I must have missed a half dozen shifts since…”
“Estella will understand.”
I shook my head. “Do you really think so?”
“I’ll talk to her for you,” she said, doling out
“Died?”
The man shrugged.
“Do I appear dead to you?”
I looked at the remnants of my home, my life—the little coffee table with its carved oak flowers at the edges. My father had made it, before he died. The two chairs, threadbare but comfortable. The white vase on the table where I’d display the wildflowers Daniel picked for me on walks along Fourth Avenue. My things. My life.
Taken.
Disinterested, the girl reached for her doll on the sofa and climbed the stairs. “Wait right there,” the man said to me, clearly annoyed. “Dinner’s boiling over on the stove.”
As soon as he left, I walked a few steps to the base of the stairs. A small chest of drawers had been wedged up against the wall, and I strained, attempting to move it forward until I found the secret compartment. I opened it and sighed. Daniel’s feather, shells. Memories wafted into the room and I wanted to linger in them, but I knew there wasn’t time. I reached into my bag and pulled out Max. I straightened the little bear’s blue bow and tucked him inside the space behind the wall. He belonged here. And Daniel would find him again. My heart told me that.
I heard footsteps behind me, and I closed the little door quickly, dropping my purse. I picked it up swiftly.
“What do you think you’re doing, miss?” the man said suspiciously.
“I was just—”
He frowned. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”
“Please,” I said, “if you see a little boy—”
“If I see
you
again, I’m going to report you to the police.”
The girl appeared in the room again and looked at me with sympathetic eyes before her father pushed me out into the hallway and closed the door with a loud thud.
Outside on the street, I surveyed my purse, grateful that my pocketbook, meager as it was, remained inside. Eva’s little drawing, however, hadn’t met such a fortunate fate.
It must have fallen out.
I walked numbly out to the sidewalk. Children bundled in warm coats played hopscotch on the street as mothers looked on. “Daniel!” I called out in vain. Seagulls flew overhead, swooping and squawking in a mocking manner. The world, and every creature in it, seemed cruel and uncaring.
“Vera, is that you?” a familiar voice called out from the sidewalk up ahead.
“Gwen?”
“Oh, honey,” she said. “I’ve been so worried about you. I just saw Caroline. She told me what happened. I’m so sorry.”
“He’s gone,” I said. The words sounded foreign as they crossed my lips, as if someone else had uttered them.
“What do you mean,
gone
?”
“When I came home from work, he wasn’t there,” I said, feeling the tears sting my eyes. “The police won’t do anything because they think he ran away, but Gwen, he would have never run away.”
She put her arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. “Look at you,” she said. “You’re a skeleton. Have you eaten?”
I shook my head.
She patted my arm. “There’s no sense crying out here in the cold. And you look like you haven’t eaten in days. Let me buy you a hot meal.”
My stomach growled. I hated that I had to stop to deal with hunger during a time like this, but I knew I’d be useless to Daniel passed out from weakness, so I obliged. “All right,” I said meekly.
Gwen and I walked to Lindgren’s, a little café in the Market where we used to dine, in happier times. “Two ham-and-gravy sandwiches,” she said to the waitress behind the counter.
When our food arrived, I ate absently, without tasting the flavors in my mouth. Experiencing pleasure felt wrong, somehow. Instead I took comfort in the numbness.
“Are you coming back to work?” Gwen asked cautiously.
I sighed. “I guess I’ll have to. That is, if I have a job waiting for me. I must have missed a half dozen shifts since…”
“Estella will understand.”
I shook my head. “Do you really think so?”
“I’ll talk to her for you,” she said, doling out
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