Something in the way he said it made Sandra stop and listen.
Paul took out an old photograph, worn at the edges from being handled too many times. It showed a little boy with bright eyes and a small careful smile.
“He disappeared more than fifteen years ago,” Paul said. “Since then, everywhere I go, I look at faces. Sometimes I think I see him for one second, and then I realize I’m wrong again.”
Sandra studied the photo, then shook her head gently. “I’m sorry. I don’t recognize him.”
Paul nodded as if disappointment had become familiar territory. Still, he handed her his card and asked her to call if she noticed any young man nearby who seemed lost, disconnected, or unknown. Then he added, almost apologetically, that there was a large reward for any useful clue.
“It’s not to buy people,” he said quickly. “I’m just trying every way I can.”
Sandra placed the card beside the register. “God will help you,” she said gently.
Paul’s face changed for a second, like his words had touched a wound he carried everywhere.
After he left, Doris appeared again, unimpressed. “Fifteen years? People will lie to him just for the reward.”
“Reward or no reward,” Sandra said, “that man is in pain.”
“Pain doesn’t pay bills,” Doris replied sharply. Then she opened the debt notebook and tapped a page full of names and figures. “Month end is here. Salaries are out. People should pay what they owe. Go collect from those customers on credit. If we don’t gather this money, we won’t meet up.”
Reality pulled Sandra back immediately. They were behind on their bank loan. Every small payment matters. The money they had been saving sat in a nylon bag inside the drawer under the counter, separated from the day’s change. It was more than cash. It was survival.
Sandra picked up the notebook and went out.
The afternoon unfolded normally—until it didn’t.
Leave a Comment