Abigail was walking home from the dollar store when she heard the little voice. She had the day off and needed some new rubber gloves for washing dishes, as she was allergic to the soap. It was a beautiful Fall morning; warm and breezy and the few leaves that had already deserted their branches were racing with the wind across the road and through the grass.
Abbey liked to look around, she found other people, and the hints about their lives you could see in passing, fascinating. She was on a quiet street and at first the voice sounded like a squeak. She kept walking, ever mindful of rats in this city but then she heard it again, and recognized words this time.
“Hello, hello,” the little child’s voice called.
She tried to see where the voice was coming from. And then there it was- the house she was passing had the front door propped open and the little girl was standing there looking out. Abbey gave her a quick wave and kept walking.
The sound of little bare feet slapping concrete followed her and the little girl grabbed onto her shirt.
“Hello,” the little girl said.
Abbey smiled warmly at her. The girl’s clothes were worn and tattered and her face was smudged with dirt.
“My mother won’t wake up,” the little girl said. Continue reading