First Posted: 18 March, 1997
Well at least it isn't snow like Christmas time.
Yeah and maybe if I think pleaseant thoughts it won't cause any flooding. Ah well the joys of living in lotus land during the winter and fall months. I casually toggle the voice memo minder.
"Memo for Stuart, make sure you check the sump pumps if you haven't already. Last thing we need is some more flooding."
The sound of my voice adds to the background sounds of the office. The dull whirr of the heater fan, the soft gurgle of a water pump, muted music from the speakers, and the patter of rain against the glass pane. I tilt my chair back and look out the rain streaked window to the night beyond. Rain closes the night in so that you can barely see across the street below. If you forget for the moment that there is a city of around 2 million out there you can imagine there is a whole seperate world out there with no pain, greed, or the rest of those nasty little human emotions.
---Car horn blares twice---
I straighten my chair back up as the world comes rushing back into the void it left for just a moment.
Couldn't leave us well alone for another minute could you? Ah well. One last bit look before I call it a night.
Lifting up the photos I look again at another senseless bit of a world teetering on the edge. LostA kids. Runaways whose parents either care enough to pay or have money enough that they have others do the caring for them. Either way they want me to look. You get results they tell me. Two of them this time; girl and a boy.
I grunt softly to myself.
Good looking kids, both of them. Girl that looks like that could easily pass for more then 16 if she wanted to or play little girl lost. God help her if the wrong person got there paws on her. The could turn a pretty penny off her street or screen value. Boy is younger by about a year, reminds me of that kid from the family sit com ... Home something or other. Translation, another piece of fresh meat for the grinder
"Not this time", I whisper.
Its the litany of the hunt. Reassuring, familiar, a bulwark against what is sometimes enevitable and hope for the possible. I intone that same phrase each time, for each face. A prayer for the children.
I pray it never becomes lip service.