My mom is there! shouted the boy, His voice was trembling, and his thin hand pointed at the garbage bin in the middle of the street
The boy’s cry pierced through the chaotic hum of the street like a siren, sharp and urgent. It wasn’t the kind of noise you could ignore—it demanded attention. His voice rang out again, frantic and desperate. “My mom is there!” he screamed, arm stretched out, pointing toward a large garbage bin sitting crooked in the…