Daniel began crying.
“I thought if I went away, you could finally rest.”
Those words shattered my heart.
Thomas approached us.
He explained that he was the director of the community center.
After wandering for several days, Daniel had eventually reached their neighborhood. One of the employees had spotted him near a bus stop, looking cold and confused, clutching his painting tightly against his chest.
They had invited him inside, given him food and a safe place to rest, and tried to find out where he lived.
But Daniel wouldn’t give them his address.
He kept repeating the same words.
“Mom said not to come back.”
A few days later, the staff saw his missing-person photograph online and immediately contacted the police.
“But why did you mention the painting?” I asked Thomas.
He picked up the picture lying on the table.
It was the same colorful painting Daniel had tried to show me that terrible Tuesday.
