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My Son

Othon

As I walked with Bart, the insistent ringtone of the phone shattered the peace. Karen. Her name blinked on the screen, stirring a strange sensation within me. A bad feeling settled in my chest. With a lump in my throat, I answered, sitting down on a nearby bench.

Karen's words hit me like a hammer, leaving me stunned. My son was missing. I gripped Bart's leash tightly, ready to rush back home and assist in the search. But something made me hesitate.

As I ended the call and held onto the dog leash, a strange movement very close to me caught my attention. A figure was approaching from a side street. I furrowed my brow, a shiver running down my spine.

"Otavio?" I spoke aloud, but he wouldn't hear me from that distance.

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