My son, 4, vanished in the mall.

at the park, she appears again. This time, she sits on the bench openly. No hiding. No shadows. I sit beside her, my hands shaking.

“I remember now,” I whisper.

She exhales slowly, as if she has been holding her breath for weeks. “Good. That means we are still on the right path.”

“Path to what?” I ask.

“To keeping all the children alive,” she answers.

A continue reading …