It looked like it was going to rain. Dark clouds filled the sky, and the wind whistled through the open window.
People rushed by as the bus pulled up at the next stop.
A father and his daughter boarded together.
“Daddy, when can I have that cake?” the little girl asked, her head tilted upward, looking up at the man beside her.
The man smiled down at her and gently tapped her nose.
“We’ll sneak a little, but don’t let your mom catch us, you little glutton.”
I watched them, and the ache in my heart grew.
After my stepmother came into our lives, she forbade anyone from celebrating my birthday.
She wouldn’t let my father buy me a cake or do anything special for me.
So, since then, I hadn’t had a single birthday celebration.
–
Dragging myself home, exhausted, I began to plan for what the future might look like.
I no longer had a job, and the financial situation at home was suddenly becoming tight.
I could hardly support myself, let alone take care of a grown man.
So when I opened the door and found the place in complete disarray, I realized something.
Such is life. After kicking you down, it comes back and smacks you again.
I didn’t know what had happened to the place. Broken glass, overturned flowerpots with dirt scattered everywhere, or flour all over the floor—it all looked like chaos.
I scanned the room, but I couldn’t find the person I was looking for.
Ben. Gone.
A blankness hit my mind for a moment, and then panic started to rise.
I rushed from room to room, searching every corner. A tall man like Ben couldn’t possibly hide in such a small apartment, right?
I even opened the kitchen cabinets, looking everywhere.
Finally, my eyes fell on the sketchbook lying on the floor.
There, drawn crookedly on the page, was a picture of a cake.
