Homecoming by LittleApril
Bucharest, April 10th 2016. 3.23pm
With light footsteps, the woman weaved through the bustling market stalls. She held her head high - still searching for the telltale signs - and stared around the busy town square. She'd left his side for just a moment - just seven minutes as she negotiated and bartered her way through another month's rent - and he'd disappeared. Fear gnawed at her insides. It had been twenty minutes since she'd last laid eyes on the six-year-old.
Where is he?
Twenty-one minutes and counting.
Her eyes flitted around the market stall. Unblinking, she raced forward at the sight of a familiar torn and dirtied blue shirt. By the grocer's, she realised belatedly, still pushing forward, apologising in broken Romanian for the haste with which she was moving. Another mumbled apology. A wave of her hand. As she grew closer, she called the child's name just as the lone six-year-old hurried across the road into the path of the now moving traffic.
"James!"
Her cry was lost in the thrum of the town square.
It happened so quickly.
Having heard his mother's voice, the little boy stopped and turned to find the source of her calling, unaware of the SUV hurrying towards his place on the road. A strangled cry left the woman's voice and her hand covered her scream as a second figure appeared and pulled the child away from the never-slowing taxi.
Scrambling forward, the woman dropped to her knees in front of the child and ran her hands over his body. "James," she sighed in relief, hugging the child close to her chest. "Why did you move? I told you not to move-"
"Hungry," the little boy answered, his voice quiet. "I wanted the plums."
"You're lucky to be alive," she murmured, pulling him to her chest once more. She lifted her head to thank the stranger, only to find that he had disappeared into the crowds.