The October wind played with the fallen leaves, swirling them around the feet of hurried commuters. The sky, heavy with slate-gray clouds, looked moody and uninviting. Sarah pulled her raincoat hood tighter and quickened her pace, trying to escape the biting dampness.
The Sunday farmers’ market was closing in an hour, and she still needed to grab produce for the week—a small ritual left over from the days when she was cooking for two. Her mind was a checklist of unfinished tasks: the report due Monday morning, the data audit for her client, the weekly call to her mother. Her hand instinctively gripped the grocery list scribbled on the back of an old receipt.
It was just another day in a long line of identical weekends, marked by duty rather than joy. Near the main entrance, the crowd was thick. People were bagging the last of the season’s apples, and tired vendors were already packing up their crates.
In the chaos of sounds and smells, she felt like a tiny speck in the vast suburban sprawl, where everyone chases a version of happiness they can’t quite define. Suddenly, she felt a tug on her sleeve—so light she almost dismissed it as someone bumping into her. But when Sarah turned around, she froze.
A young boy stood before her. At first, she only noticed his eyes—gray like the storm clouds above and far too serious for a child. It was the look of someone who had seen too much.
He wore a thin jacket that was clearly too small, frayed jeans, and messy hair. But it was that adult-like gaze that stayed with her. “Can you help me?” he asked, his voice quiet but steady. Only then did Sarah notice the bundle in his arms.
Peeking out from a dirty, once-white fleece blanket was the face of an infant. The baby’s pink cheeks were a sharp contrast to the older boy’s pale, hollow face. The little nose twitched in sleep. Sarah’s mind raced.
Where were their parents? Why were they alone? Was their mother just in a nearby store? The questions hit her all at once, but there were no easy answers.
“Ma’am,” the boy said, looking her straight in the eye as if weighing her soul. “Do you need a baby? Please take my brother. He’s only five months old, and he’s so hungry.” The words hit her harder than any physical blow.
The world seemed to dim for a second. It was as if the comfortable scenery of her life had been ripped away to reveal a raw, ugly reality. Sarah looked around at the shoppers flowing past them like a river around a stone. Some looked away in shame; others didn’t even notice two children standing alone in the cold.
The world kept moving, while these two small people balanced on the edge of an abyss. “Where is your mom?” Sarah asked, kneeling so she was at eye level with him. “I don’t know,” he said, his shoulders slumping with a fatigue no eight-year-old should know.
“Mom left a few days ago. She said she’d be right back, but…” He hugged the bundle tighter. “We don’t have any food left. And Ben won’t stop crying.”
“What about your dad? Or a grandmother?”
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