The figure left Central Park, heading east towards the river. I didn’t know why I was following him. I didn’t know the man, and yet my heart told me I did. When we got to the water’s edge, the vision floated neatly out over the water, and I just stared at him.
I shouldn’t have wandered so far from the dig site. I knew the sands were unforgiving and that I could easily become one of the many lost to them. There are precautionary tales that are told at these sites to warn you of the dangers. I knew better, but I could have sworn I saw something or someone.
An opening appears, and I push through, Dorothy behind me. We arrive to chaos. People are pushing past one another, attempting to be the lucky ones to get on the lifeboat. I hold the boy closer to me, looking at Dorothy. Her face is not its usual joyful expression, but grim.