A thin, desperate cry that didn’t belong in an empty restroom.
My heart started pounding so hard I thought it might drown out the sound. I dropped the mop and followed the noise, step by careful step, toward the far wall.
Behind the second trash bin. The one that always overflowed first.
I pulled it aside and knelt down.
And there he was.
A newborn baby boy.
So small. So frighteningly still. Wrapped in a dirty, threadbare blanket, tucked between torn paper towels and empty snack wrappers. Someone had placed a faded navy hoodie beneath him, as if that tiny mercy could make up for everything else.
