Bianca's hands trembled as she clutched the worn strap of her bag.
Her heart pounded in uneven beats, fear twisting like a knife inside her.
The bag wasn't torn. Not a thread undone.
Yet the book, the black book that seemed to breathe with a life of its own was gone.
Her lips parted in disbelief.
"Did it fall out? Or… did it leave me?"
For a fleeting second, she imagined turning back, scouring every inch of the shadowed road she had walked.
But then her son's face surfaced in her mind, soft and fragile, an image that had carried her through nights of despair. No, she couldn't delay,,,, Not now,,, not when she needed him.
Her eyes closed... She resolve pushing against the weight of fear.
"I'll get him first," she whispered to herself, gripping the map like a lifeline.
She stepped into the roadside gloom, waving down a taxi.
The vehicle rattled to a halt, and she climbed in, clutching her bag to her chest as if the missing weight inside it might somehow return.
