‘Sammy,’ he shouted now, more desperate. Other parents stared, two or three came over to him, looking concerned, willing to help.
He tried to explain to them, his words were shrill and panicked, ‘He was right here, right here, at the slide, I had his hand, and then I turned for a second and he had disappeared.’ He broke off and yelled again, ‘Sammy!’
He turned one way then the next as they questioned him: what colour of top did he have on? was he wearing a jacket? how tall was he? what age was he?
His world swam before his eyes. The park was so busy. It was a mild spring day, the first since the cold winter had faded away. It was a school holiday.
How long now? Five minutes, ten? Someone suggested he should call the police. He fumbled with his smartphone. Through sweat and tears he managed to dial and report his son missing. The operator took his details. Before he could finish the ‘phone was taken from his hand. He tried to grab it back.
A woman was leading him away, talking to him calmly. Through the haze and fear he caught her words.
‘It’s been three years, Robert, you can’t keep coming here and doing this over and over again. You have to let go. Let’s get you back to the house.’
Written for The Daily Post – Disappear prompt: write a new post to the one-word prompt. Click on the link to learn more about the challenge.
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