The boy cried, and his father held his hand, and they walked on.
“We’ll be okay,” his father told him.
The city ruins were visible, far behind the fifth crater. They passed the crater days later.
Still, the boy couldn’t stop weeping. “Where’s mommy?”
“She’ll come,” the father answered, his hand shaking.
As they finally entered the city, the boy squeezed his father’s empty glove. A black dog
darted toward him. The boy grabbed a rock and threw it. Later that day, sitting by the fire of a stillburning
bus carcass, the boy finally ate, and forgot.