Misha, look!” I froze at the gate, unable to believe what I saw.
My husband stumbled across the threshold, bowed beneath the weight of a bucket packed with fish. The early frost of July seeped into my bones, but what I saw on the bench made me forget about it.
A woven basket rested on an old bench by the fence. Inside, a youngster was covered in a worn cloth. A toddler, approximately two years old.
His enormous brown eyes stared directly at me, without fear or interest.
“My God,” Mikhail exclaimed. “Where did he come from?”
I gently ran my finger through his dark hair. The boy didn’t flinch, didn’t cry — he just blinked.
