The photo is taken. The woman beams, already typing on her phone. "You're like, so normal in real life!"
Another person notices. Then another. Questions start. The lottery. The marriage. Where I got my bag. If Arthur is here too.
I answer politely but briefly, already backing away, reaching for Henry.
I turn back to where he was standing.
Henry isn't there.
At first, I assume he moved a few feet. Then a few more. I scan the immediate area, heart still steady, telling myself this is nothing. Kids wander. He probably saw something interesting.
"Henry?" I call, voice still calm.
No answer.
"Henry!" I try again, louder this time.
The noise presses in—voices, music, laughter, announcements echoing through the hall. My pulse starts to climb. I walk faster, weaving through bodies, eyes searching for his hoodie, his hair, him.
Nothing. The space where he should be stays empty.
My breath shortens. The world narrows. Every bad possibility stacks at once, uninvited and relentless.
I've lost him.
