The little girl grabbed my leather vest so hard that one of the metal snaps popped open.
She couldn't have weighed more than forty pounds.
Her tiny fingers were trembling, her cheeks were wet with tears, and she kept making the same desperate movement with one hand while pointing toward the crowded Walmart aisle behind her.
I didn't understand a thing.
โEasy, sweetheart,โ I said, lowering myself onto one knee. โAre you lost? Where's your mommy or daddy?โ
She shook her head so violently that her light-brown hair whipped across her face.
Then she made the gesture again.
Her small hand moved near her chest.
She pointed behind her.
She repeated it.
Again.
Again.
Again.
I looked around helplessly.
Thirty people could have been watching us, but nobody seemed to understand what she wanted.
A middle-aged woman standing beside a shopping cart whispered that somebody should call security.
A young mother pulled her son closer.
And a Walmart manager in a navy-blue polo shirt approached with the expression of a man who had just discovered a problem he didn't know how to solve.
โSir,โ he said carefully, โwe've been told this child belongs to a gentleman over there.โ
He pointed toward a tall man standing near the end of the aisle.
The man wore a pale-gray polo shirt, dark jeans, and brown work shoes.
He looked to be about thirty-eight.
He raised one hand when he noticed us watching.
Then he gave a weak smile.
At first, I assumed the little girl had become separated from her father and was frightened by the crowd.
โSee that man, sweetheart?โ I asked gently. โIs that your daddy?โ
She glanced over her shoulder.
Then she turned back to me.
Her expression changed from fear to outright panic.
She grabbed my vest with both hands and pressed herself against my chest.
โNo, no,โ I murmured. โIt's okay. I'm not going to make you go anywhere.โ
The manager stepped closer.
โSir, maybe we should let her father take her.โ
The girl shook her head again.
Then she began making the same gesture.
Faster this time.
Her fingers moved frantically.
She pointed behind her.
And she made a sound that wasn't quite a word.
A breathy, desperate little noise.
I looked toward the man again.
Something was wrong.
His smile had disappeared.
His face looked gray beneath the fluorescent lights.
Sweat shone across his forehead, and one hand drifted toward the center of his chest before he quickly lowered it.
I thought he might be ill.
But I didn't yet understand how serious it was.
Then a young woman wearing a pharmacy employee badge hurried toward us.