My Borrowed Son

That Day

It would've been the perfect day to rain. The divorce was finalized. The house and everything in it were divided up accordingly, but only two boxes of an entire life together had been cracked open. The rest were still taped and shoved in every free space available.

Seven years. It had only been seven years. Well... they don't call it the seven year itch for nothing, but why did it have to be her?

Amanda Silverstein sat on the edge of the hard plastic bench just beside the playground in the neighborhood she moved into just one month ago.

The sun shone brightly on the metallic structure that made up the playground. The swings drifted back and forth in the light breeze that didn't reach the clouds high above. It looked abandoned, but school was in session, so no kids were present yet.

In a perfect world, Amanda could have seen her children playing on a playground like this. The house her and her now ex-husband had was next to a lovely playground.

All of these hopes and dreams were now dry and fading like the link signature on the divorce papers sitting on her kitchen table.

They weren't, however, dry like her eyes. Amanda hadn't stopped the slow stream of leaking tears since she went on her walk. The warmth of the sun couldn't penetrate the barrier of numb sorrow strangling her heart. Every moment, she wondered what she could've done differently. Could she have spoken softer? Was it the hours she worked? Her desire for kids? What chased him away? Or was it inevitable? Were there too many differences in the first place? Was there anything she could've done?

Amanda hung her head and laced her fingers through her hair by her scalp. Deep breath after deep breath, she was managing to keep herself from succumbing to the nausea plaguing her. Head throbbing, she leaned back and stared at the cloudless sky.

It was only now that she realized she wasn't shuddering with every breath. She filled her lungs and exhaled the first calm breath she had taken in hours.

What was she going to do now? Work, obviously; but what else? The possibilities were endless, and the vastness was all consuming.

It was too much...

And...

Really...

What she was actually asking herself was what was she going to do without him.

Was it even worth it?

Chest clenching in the familiar aching throb, Amanda felt on the verge of another round of sobs when she heard something.

It was a soft sob, and it didn't come from her. It was a sniffling sob that sounded close, but a quick glance around revealed no one.

Amanda composed herself and wiped her palm against her cheek, smearing what little makeup she placed on her eyes.

"Hello?" she called. The little sob was close, but no one was around her.

More importantly, the sob sounded like it was... under... the bench.

Amanda swallowed dryly and dared her curious side to peer under the bench as she heard another impossibly soft cry. There was no way something was there, right?

She pulled her skirt to the side and looked, heart skipping every other beat in her chest as she did.

Naturally, nothing seemed to be under there... at first.

Then, after a moment of staring intensely and unblinking at the same spot while allowing her eyes to unfocus, she saw some of the tall blades of grass twitch. Amanda held her breath. Did she just see that?

She focused on the same spot and, once again, saw the tall blades of grass twitch and something pull closer to the pole. Mortified, Amanda pulled her whole body up onto the bench, fearing it might be an injured creature like a mouse.

But... how could it be a mouse? It was a light sandy brown and was too round for a mouse.

Perhaps it was one of those crying dolls that a child lost earlier on the playground?

Amanda dared herself again to peer over the edge and, with the utmost care, pulled the blades of grass out of her field of vision.

Almost instantly stunned, she found herself locking eyes with the smallest boy she had ever seen in her life. Soft brown eyes and gaunt features, a boy no bigger than Amanda's thumb was huddled next to the metallic part of the pole that supported the bench.

Upon seeing Amanda, the child scurried away to the other side of the pole, peering out only a little to reveal his fear filled eyes.

Amanda felt like she was about to faint. Stunned beyond words didn't cover the rush of emotions she experienced. Completely flabbergasted, Amanda could only stare at the boy, jaw slack with surprise.

Was he real?

Was he a hallucination?

Was this some kind of manifested stress creature because of everything she was going through recently?

She found herself muttering, "Hey there," before she could stop herself. The boy, who looked thin and filthy, whimpered, and retreated back behind the pole once again, and he didn't reappear despite Amanda being able to hear him.

Amanda's anxiety from her own predicament was immediately replaced by questions and concern about this child.

Was he alone?

Was he real?

Where were his parents?

He looked human enough, but he couldn't be human if he were that small, right?

What should she do? Should she call the police? Or was he more like an animal and, if she touched him, he would be rejected by his family.

What should she do?