Narrator: Renee S. | Illinois, USA
A little boy stood beside me on the platform, holding a paper bag against his chest. Maybe seven. He asked which way the train was coming.
I pointed. He turned to face the opposite direction.
I asked where his grown-up was. He said, “She’s still getting on.”
The platform was almost empty. No train had stopped in the few minutes I’d been there. I took a step back to look for a parent, and his bag began moving. Something inside was pressing against the paper. A narrow point, then several others, spreading like fingers.
He held it out to me. “Can you keep it shut?”
I said no. I said it loudly enough that a woman farther down looked over. The boy turned towards her and walked away. The paper was starting to split.
I followed at a distance, calling to the woman. She looked directly towards him without reacting. He passed behind a pillar and never came out.
I asked her if she’d seen him. She said she had only seen me. Then she moved away from me, carefully. I can’t blame her for that.
