She looked everywhere: at the train station, dumpster alleys, inside big black plastic bags and trash barrels, and piles of boxes which would soon serve as sleeping mats, but no, no kid was found. Being homeless means you have to do everything yourself; can’t trust the police to look for an eleven-month old baby of a nobody. So she looked, and looked, and didn’t sleep–until she found a tiny bluish foot jutting out from under a parked truck down the next block.


5 thoughts on “Misplaced

This is the Brain Droppings Bin--use it.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s