The garden gate stood open.
Olivia was gone.
***
At first, we told ourselves she’d wandered next door. Then the next street. Then the little shop where everyone knew the American girl who ordered strawberry ice cream with both hands on the counter.
Olivia was gone.
By sunset, neighbors were searching alleys and calling her name. Detective Lee arrived before dark, calm and young and determined enough that I believed him when he said, « We’ll find her. »
They searched for a year.
Forests. Drainage canals. Train stations. Schools. Every place a five-year-old could have wandered and every place a mother prayed she hadn’t.
Nothing.
They searched for a year.
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