Water ran down her face. People ran for cover. Goi kept running. She checked behind shops. She checked under bridges. [music] She checked near gutters. Nothing. Her voice became. Her legs became weak. [music] Finally, she stopped. Rain poured down. She stood in the middle of the road, shaking. “Where are you?” she cried.
Cars honked. People shouted. Goi did not care. She sank to her knees. Rain mixed with her tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t do more.” She stayed there until the rain slowed. When she finally stood up, she felt empty. She walked home slowly. Her feet dragged on the ground.
That night, did not sleep. She stared at the ceiling and listened to the rain drip from the roof. Her chest hurt with fear. Her mind filled [music] with terrible thoughts. “What if something happened to them? What if they are hurt? What if they are gone forever?” She hugged herself tightly. “I should have done more,” she whispered.
The next day, Ngozi went back to the road early. She set up her table and waited. Her eyes searched everywhere. The boys did not come. That day, she did not sell much. She barely noticed. Her heart was somewhere else. As the sun went down, Goi packed her table. She stood for a long time, staring at the unfinished building.
To she whispered one last time. There was no answer. And Goi turned and walked home slowly. She did not know it then, but that day was the last day she would see the boys as children, and the street that once held their small footsteps felt painfully empty. The days after the boys disappeared felt long and empty. Every morning, Mosi still woke up early.
Her body knew the routine too well to stop. She washed her face, tied her wrapper, and cooked food like she always did. But something inside her had changed. She no longer talked to herself while stirring the pot. She no longer smiled without thinking. Her eyes were always tired. When she pushed her wooden table to the roadside, she still placed it in the same spot.
She arranged her plates and spoons the same way, but her eyes kept moving across the road [music] again and again like they were looking for something that refused to appear. The unfinished building was still there. The same broken blocks, the same empty space. No boys. The first week, Goi believed they would return. They will come, she told herself every morning.
Maybe they just moved for a while. Each afternoon, she kept a plate aside. Sometimes rice stuck to the bottom of the pot. Sometimes beans, sometimes only bread. She kept it anyway. Customers noticed. One woman asked, “Who is that plate for?” Goi forced a smile. someone who may come. The woman nodded and walked away, but the boys did not come.
After 2 weeks, hope became thinner. Goi stopped keeping the plate aside, but her eyes still searched the road. She asked people again and again. Did you see three boys? Triplets, small boys who sit there. Some shook their heads, some shrugged, some laughed. Street boys don’t stay in one place. One man said, “Forget them.
” N Goi nodded, but she did not forget. Weeks turned into months. Goi grew thinner. Her shop became quieter. Madame Bi noticed and smiled more often than usual. One afternoon, Madame BC walked over with a fake smile. “So the boys are gone,” she said. “See how peace has returned.” Goi did not answer. Madame BC laughed. I warned you.
Kindness does not feed anyone. Goi kept serving food, but her hands shook. Business did not suddenly improve like Madame BC said it would. It became worse. Without the boys, the street felt strange. Goi did not know how to explain it. But the space they once sat in felt loud even when it was quiet. She missed Solar’s questions.
She missed Kunnel’s watchful eyes. She missed Tounday’s serious face. Sometimes while serving customers, she would hear a laugh and turn quickly. Sometimes she would hear footsteps and look up. Each time it was not them. At night, dreamed of the boys. In one dream, they were children again, running toward her with smiles.
In another they were calling her name from far away. In some dreams, she could not reach them. No matter how fast she ran, she woke up many nights with her chest tight. Years passed. N Go’s hair began to turn gray. Her back began to hurt when she stood too long. [music] Her wooden table became weaker with one leg always shaking.
