River

The river runs swiftly at this time of year. Mothers tell their children to stay away but the boy has no mother to fear for him. He sits by the bank, flicking pebbles into the current. When night falls, he is still sitting, shivering in his worn t-shirt, his eyes gleaming in the light of the full moon. The artificial world is silent now, the factories have shut down for the day, the men have returned to their families. All he can hear is the sound of the river chattering to itself as it winds its way to the sea. He listens intently, his legs crossed and his arms folded around him to keep out the cold. From time to time he responds, slowly, for a being this ancient cannot understand time in moments. Towards dawn, the boy stands up and walks without hesitation into the rushing waters. An early rising fisherman sees him and cries out in alarm, but the boy has vanished from view. A police car soon joins the fisherman at the riverbank.

Further upstream, the lock is closed, and boats scour the river. After two days, the search is called off. After all, it is hard to find what you are looking for, if you are searching from inside it.