She pulled her little red wagon in the overcast afternoon chill, her thin coat pulled closely against her slender little bones. The back wheel of her wagon was slightly bent, causing the tire to squeak and twist on its axis ever so slightly with each rotation. *squeak* *squeak* *squeak* She trudged up the pavement, until at last she arrived at her destination. Her tiny brow furrowed as she struggled with the sheet of paper against the pillar. Worn sneakers on tippy-toes stretching tiny fingers as high as they could reach, fumbling with slick – sticking tape, fighting the corners for control until at last her poster was plastered to the pillar for all to see:
Curious onlookers inside the coffee shop peered over their steamy mugs through the frosty window frames, content to have a reprieve from an otherwise uneventful Tuesday afternoon.
“Aww… isn’t that the saddest thing?” the patrons cooed. The coffee shop was abuzz with tepid conversation, of collective pity of the little girl beyond the glass. Outside, the forlorn little figure stepped back to admire her handiwork for a moment rubbing the heat back into her fingers, and then disappeared up the street– red wagon in tow. *squeak* *squeak *squeak*
Weeks past and the poster tore. Rained-soaked and wind swept until all that remained were tiny taped corner nubs. The little girl returned, with her little red wagon with the slightly bent back wheel in tow. *squeak* *squeak* *squeak* She stood on the tops of tippy-toes on the slick road with arms outstretched way beyond the enormous weight of her lost pet, plastering the pillar with her heart’s honest and earnest plea:
“Aww… that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.” An outspoken barista declared as she wiped her hands down her apron; murmurs of agreement echoed in ripples across the coffee shop. They all sat watching through paned glass as the little girl collected herself and disappeared down the street. Forgotten, the barista poured another cup of coffee.
Weeks passed and the elements ran their slender icy slicing fingers through her poster, reducing it to ribbons to be rolled down the street in limp tumbling tubes. The little red wagon with the slightly bent back wheel came rattling up the pavement. *squeak* *squeak* *squeak* A tall figure stood in front of the coffee shop and with a drooping head and slumped shoulders. Slender arms with skinnier fingers pressed the poster to the pillar. Patrons inside craned their necks to get a glimpse: