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He was staring at the market from behind a corner. He couldn’t go closer, they would be mean and chase him away. But his tummy was growling so loud and it smelled so good! The screens above the stalls projected the food and the prices and he had no money. Mama and dada had money, but mama and dada… He felt tears fall down his face. Again. He was crying a lot now but it didn’t help because mama and dada were gone because of the fire in their home and-
He sniffled and then licked his lips where the tears had trickled. He wanted to drink too. Maybe he could drink from the fountain, but then people would see him and be mean again. He could wait until they went home. They had to go home, right? They still had homes to go to…
He started backing away slowly, decided to wait until it got dark.
Something bumped into his back and he jumped in surprise and turned, though he stumbled a little. He felt so weak, he was so hungry.
“Oh, little boy, what are you-” the old woman started kindly, but as she looked him up and down, her smile turned into a frown. He knew his clothes were dirty, now that mama and dada couldn’t… “Get out of here, filthy brat,” the woman growled venomously and he hurried to get away from her, from the market, from the people, but there were still people and they all didn’t like him now that mama and dada were gone.
He stopped behind a large flowerpot and slid to his knees, breathing heavily. He was crying again, hiccuping, but at least no-one could see him here and shout at him for being alone and dirty.
Maybe he could wash his clothes in the fountain, would people be nice again? But he had no other clothes so he would be cold.
A drop fell on his face and it wasn’t warm. Not a tear. It was starting to rain. That would make him wet and freezing too… no, he didn’t want that. Drying his tears so he could see, he staggered back to his feet. He needed to find a place to hide from the rain.
He avoided directions from which he could hear voices or the running motors of carriages. The rain grew stronger. He turned another corner.
This alley was darker and dirtier than the previous one, and smelled funny . He walked through it carefully, head down. He almost tripped over some fallen electric cables and gave them a wide berth, in case they could still shock him.
The buildings were silent, windows and doors closed… maybe they were empty? He walked to one door and tried to open it, reaching for the handle on his tiptoes – and it moved. He almost fell when the door swung towards him, but then he righted himself and stepped through the entrance.
It was really dark in here, but dry. And a little warmer. He looked around and couldn’t really see anything but vague shapes, but maybe he could find a chair and could wait here until… until… until what?
His eyes prickled again. He could drink from the fountain and wash his clothes and be cold but he knew it wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t fix what had happened. It wouldn’t-
Clatter.
He gasped, tears forgotten as his wide eyes turned towards the darkness the sound had come from. He started backing out.
“No, please wait,” came from another direction and his surprise made him trip and fall on his bottom.
“Are you alright?” asked the same voice and a man walked into the faint light coming from the outside. Not very old, younger than dada. “Don’t worry, you’re safe here.”
The man moved closer to him and crouched. “Where is your family?”
The tears started falling again. Why? This man was nice! He wasn’t shouting.
“You don’t have any family?” the man asked – or said. He was smiling, but it was sad. “We don’t either,” the man gestured to the dark and suddenly there were more people, some adults and some younger and some almost as young as himself. They looked nervous, staring at him, and he stared back. Some smiled a little and one boy waved shyly.
He couldn’t make himself smile, but he slightly raised his palm at least.
“That’s Laikhos,” said the man, grinning. “And I’m Nac. What’s your name?”
His name. No-one had called his name since- No-one had even asked for his name. Or smiled at him. These people were… nice. There were still nice people in Atlantis. He couldn’t smile, but he could answer:
“My name’s Tihocan.”