Day 2: "Lost in Public"

 This piece is a work of fiction, and so are you. Also, I know how to spell "Boston Garden". That was a storytelling decision. 

This piece is a work of fiction, and so are you. Also, I know how to spell "Boston Garden". That was a storytelling decision. 

I remember one time when I was very young I got separated from my mom at the Children’s Museum. We were in a big crowd and I let go of her hand. The world was a swirling rush of heavy wool fabrics and strangers’ hands closing in on me so I started to scream and cry and a stranger picked me up “Whose kid is this?!” I thrashed in his clumsy hands but then I saw my mom rushing to me and then I could only see her shoulder and smell her hair and I was safe again.

A year- or maybe 2- later I got seperated from my dad at a pro-wrestling event at the Boston Gardan. I suddenly found myself alone in a long concrete hall, packed with people.
I remember deciding to stay calm.
My biggest fear was that someone would notice I was alone. I ‘m not sure why. So I did what others were doing and I walked forward. And in the chaos and disorder, I created a straight line. And it had two directions, I realized. And perhaps the other would lead me back to where I had been before (with my dad). So I reversed.
A friendly police man kneeled in front of me.
”I bet you’re Bobby.” He said, smiling. “Let’s go see your dad.” Then he picked me up.
Then dad put me down, and said “Don’t wander off” so I didn’t. I stayed real close. But when we got home to mom I ran up to her and put my face in her shoulder and cried all night.