The sun was setting on a warm, breezy noon.

The park was quiet.

Lance sat in the sandbox, playing with his shovel, pushing sand back and forth without much thought.

Then he heard it.

Someone was crying.

He stopped and looked around. The swings were empty. The benches were empty. The sound came again—soft and shaky.

There.

Under the big red slide, someone was squatting.

Lance stood up and ran toward him.

A boy in green shorts sat with his arms covering his face. His shoulders shook as he sobbed.

“Hey,” Lance said. “What happened? Why are you crying?”

“It hurts,” the boy cried. “It hurts so much.”

Lance gently rubbed the boy’s head, trying to comfort him.

“Where’s your mom?” Lance asked. “Are you here with someone?”

He looked around again. The park was nearly empty.

“Okay,” Lance said after a moment. “I’ll go tell my mom, and we’ll find your mommy. Okay?”

He smiled, then ran off.

At the entrance of the park, Gloria was talking to the nanny when she saw Lance running toward her.

He grabbed onto her.

“Mom!” he said. “There’s a kid under the red slide. He’s hurt and crying.”

Gloria’s expression changed. She turned to the nanny.

“Call 112.”

Lance ran back toward the slide. He didn’t want to leave the crying kid alone.

Gloria and the nanny followed him, hurrying.

“Lance,” Gloria said, slightly out of breath. “Where are you going?”

Lance reached the slide.

The boy was still there, squatting under it, crying with his face covered.

“I’m back,” Lance said. “I brought my mom. Now tell us where you live—we’ll take you home.”

Gloria stopped a few steps behind him.

Her face went pale.

The nanny froze behind her.

The playground was empty.

There was no boy under the slide.

No one sitting in front of Lance.

Gloria’s shock turned into distress. Tears filled her eyes as she stared at her son, speaking to nothing.

Her worst fear had come true.

“This is so cruel..! He’s my only son..!”

Gloria was gushing in front of her brother.

Heavy clouds and thunderstorms loomed outside. Tiny droplets of rain hit the huge windows, falling pitter-patter. The air inside was heavy and filled with smoke.

Her brother held his head in distress, smoking a cigar.

“This could be a misunderstanding too. You know his age, Gloria. What if he was imagining things? Kids are creative at this age.”

“No..!!”

Gloria yelled.

“No, he was not imagining it. I asked him—he told me all the details of that kid that died in that park two months ago. He fell from that slide, broke his neck, and died in an instant. The localities confirmed it.”

She sobbed.

“It was a scene today..” sobs “They were all looking at him as if my boy is sick..”

“I.. I sobs know the looks, Renzo. I know what they were thinking.”

“And I knew, even if you and Antonio hide the fact, that Antonio could see those things. I was praying and praying—not my boy, please Lord..!”

She started crying.

Lorenzo: “Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree… It’s quite a tough position you’ve put me in, my friend. If only you knew..!”

He tapped the cigar on the ashtray and got up.

Lorenzo: “Hey, c’mon. Crying won’t fix the fact that he left, but he is his father.”

He paused.

“And the situation is not that bad. Lance is in a fragile age. If we change his surroundings, then he won’t remember all of this, you know.”

“Maybe you should let Lance stay with him for a little while. He is his father, of course.”

Gloria looked at him with teared eyes and a little anger.

“Because, Gloria, if there’s someone best out there to deal with him in this situation…”

“I think it’s him.”