The last time I saw Daniel, he was standing in the hallway, putting on his shoes, with his backpack hanging from one shoulder.
“Did you finish your history homework?” I asked.
“Yes, Mom.” She took her jacket, leaned over, and kissed me on the cheek. “See you tonight.”
Then the door closed and he left.
I stood by the window and watched him walk away down the street.
That night, Daniel did not return home.
The last time I saw Daniel, he was standing in the hallway.
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At first I wasn’t worried.
Sometimes he would stay late at school to play guitar with his friends or go to the park to hang out until nightfall.
He always sent me a message when he did it, but maybe his phone had turned off.
I told myself that while I was preparing dinner, while I was eating alone, while I was washing the dishes and leaving her plate in the oven.
But when the sun set and her room was still empty, I could no longer ignore the feeling that something was wrong.
At first I wasn’t worried.
Announcement
I called him. It went straight to voicemail.
By ten o’clock, I was already driving around the neighborhood, looking for him.
At midnight, she was at a police station to report her disappearance.
The officer asked me questions, took notes, and finally told me, “Sometimes teenagers leave for a couple of days. Arguments with their parents, that kind of thing.”
