“Yes, Mom.” He grabbed his jacket, then leaned over and kissed my cheek. “See you tonight.”
Then the door closed, and he left. I stood at the window and saw him walk away down the street.
That night, Daniel didn’t come home.
At first I didn’t worry. Daniel sometimes stayed up late at school to play guitar with friends, or went to the park to hang out until evening. He would always text me when he did that, but maybe his phone had run out of battery.
I told myself that while preparing dinner, while eating it alone, while washing the dishes and leaving her plate in the oven.
But when the sun went down and his room was still empty, I could no longer ignore the feeling that something was wrong.
I called his phone. He went straight to voicemail.
By ten, I was already driving around the neighborhood, looking for him. By midnight, she was sitting at a police station to report her missing.
