It was a cry for help
John stood there in the empty bus, the paper trembling slightly in his hand. The late morning sun poured through the windows, lighting up the dust in the air. Everything looked normal.
But nothing felt normal anymore.
He read the sentence again.
“I don’t want to go home.”
Fourteen simple words.
Fourteen words that weighed more than a thousand pounds.
He sat down in the driver’s seat and stared out at the playground where kids were already running and laughing. Emily was out there somewhere, probably quiet, probably alone.
He thought about ignoring it.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe she was just upset about homework. Maybe she didn’t want to clean her room. Kids say dramatic things.
