But for twelve-year-old Ethan Cole, there was no home to return to.
He sat beneath the narrow overhang of a closed convenience store, knees pulled to his chest, watching water creep closer to his worn sneakers. His backpack — everything he owned — rested beside him, wrapped carefully in a plastic trash bag he had found earlier that day. Inside were two shirts, a paperback novel missing its cover, and a photograph he never showed anyone.
The storm didn’t scare him anymore. Hunger didn’t either.
What scared Ethan was being noticed — because being noticed usually meant being moved along.
Across the street, traffic slowed as floodwater rose above the curb. Cars hesitated, engines growling nervously before pushing forward. Headlights sliced through sheets of rain, illuminating something strange ahead.
A figure.
At first Ethan thought it was debris.
