Termino.

Linquo

The night grew darker and the city seemed to be closing in on itself as Hiro began his hunt for the said place. His blank, bewildered mind, tired feet and bloodshot eyes were consumed with the search for two words — Seventh Avenue.

Apart from the unusual silence and desolation, there was one recurring element in the city’s frame — fresh ‘missing’ posters of a boy in clothes bright enough to catch the attention of any passers-by; pinned to poles, trees and pasted on the walls.

Credits: isha jha

“What a disaster this must have been for his mother,” he mumbled, while his hands almost involuntarily reached out for one of the posters and stuffed it in his pocket. “Wait! The eyes — ” his curiosity was about to spin along tangents, but just in time, his fight for survival revived against the commiseration towards the kid and he re-centered towards the only hint he had: Seventh Avenue.

The city wasn’t deserted anymore — there were people milling about aimlessly. Their faces were impassive. There was no honking, no buzz in the marketplace; everything was numb, wrapped in the common language of silence.

In one such busy street abutting the public square stood this figure looking straight at him, its stare piercing through all the chaotic silence around, as if he was the only respite it was seeking. Hiro, again almost involuntarily, walked towards it, felt something click in his brain, took out the poster from his pocket, unfolded it and realized that the figure standing right before him was the one talked about in the poster — the boy reportedly missing. His eyes were darker than the night, almost opaque. One couldn’t even see their own reflection in them and his face was expressionless, just like the rest of the populace. One part of Hiro was disconcerted and wanted to escape from this scene as quickly as possible, while the other part was sorry for the desolation that the kid was in and wanted to help him out by taking him to the police station.

Calculations ran inside his mind and he resolved to the idea of taking the kid to the police station after which he would carry his hunt.

Fourth Avenue must be somewhere on the way to the Seventh Avenue, I think can make it to both of them, he decided, as he asked for the kid’s hand and offered to walk with him. There was silence. Then, the kid extended his arms as if agreeing to Hiro’s gesture and took a step forward. His shoelaces were undone. Hiro bent forward to tie them and his wallet fell out from the other pocket, throwing the silver package on the road. Without much thought, he grabbed it with one hand and lifted it from the stapled end, accidentally ripping off the binding. “It must be some kind of drug!” he thought to himself, recalling the distinctive smell.

What should Hiro choose?

Abandon the kid and continue his hunt for the Seventh Avenue.

Save the kid, despite knowing the danger it carries.