The snow fell quietly on Fifth Avenue as Jonathan [music] Blake stepped out of his evening business meeting. At 37, he’d grown accustomed to these late nights, the endless negotiations that built his commercial development empire. His dark hair was touched with early flexcks of silver. His tailored black coat a shield against both the cold and the world.
Success had come early for Jonathan, but it had cost him something he was only beginning to understand he’d lost. He was reaching for his phone to call his driver when he heard a small voice barely audible above the whisper of falling snow. “Excuse me, sir.” Jonathan looked down to find a little girl standing on the sidewalk, no more than four years old.
She had reddish blonde curls escaping from beneath a worn knit cap, her cheeks pink from the cold. She wore a puffy beige coat that had seen better days, a red dress visible beneath it, and small boots that were slightly too large. A green backpack hung from her tiny shoulders, and her blue eyes were wide with an emotion Jonathan recognized immediately as fear.
“Are you lost, sweetheart?” he asked, crouching down to her level. The sidewalk was cold beneath his knees. Dampness seeping through his expensive trousers, but he didn’t notice. The little girl nodded slowly, her lower lip trembling. “I can’t wake up my mom.” The words hit Jonathan like a physical blow. “What do you mean you can’t wake her up?” Where is she? At home.
