"...That's how it happened, Officer."
At the entrance to the small-town hospital, Mr. Smith briefly spoke with the police officer who had come to ask questions... It was nothing more than confirming the missing child's height, age, and other identifying features.
"Don't worry, sir. Public safety here has always been excellent, as you know. Your child will be fine." After offering a little reassurance, the officer quickly left.
It wasn't that Mr. Smith wasn't worried about Joe. He simply couldn't leave the hospital—in any other circumstances, he would probably already have been driving around town, searching everywhere for Joe.
At that moment, he was even afraid to return to the operating room. What if the surgery failed? That would be a pain he could never bear, even over an entire lifetime.
Mr. Smith reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. No matter what, he had to—just then!
"Hey—!"
Mr. Smith heard a voice that seemed to be calling him. It seemed to be right behind him. He instinctively turned around and saw a man wearing a white shirt, his long hair tied back—and a pair of white gloves.
The white gloves were what impressed Mr. Smith most deeply. His mind was recording that striking moment, but at the same time, a loud crashing sound came from behind him—as he had only just turned around.
It was a flowerpot that had fallen from the upper floor. The pot had obviously shattered, scattering soil across the ground. Even Mr. Smith's shoes were covered in mud.
The flowerpot should have hit him if someone hadn't suddenly called out to him. Mr. Smith broke into a cold sweat. He didn't even dare imagine what would have happened to his family if, with his wife in the operating room and his son Joe