My son, 4, vanished in the mall.

shaking, gasping, the taste of metal in my mouth.

In the morning, the pin lies on my pillow.

Days pass, but the feeling grows stronger. Everywhere I go, I sense I am being watched—not in a threatening way, but in a way that feels… faithful. Protective. As though someone is waiting.

The dreams become clearer.

I stand on a slippery roadside at night. Headlights continue reading …