A Search For Her

Prologue

"Home run!"

The announcer blared as the crowds stood and cheered. Nine year old Clarissa sat in the rickety old grey bench, not paying attention to much of the game. She was never one who enjoyed baseball. Although, it was a nice day just to sit. There was not a cloud in the sky and it was a steady eighty degrees outside.

The smell of fresh hot dogs wafted through the air making her stomach rumble. That's why she came to the games in the first place. For the food.

She felt someone nudge her gently and then a shout.

"Watch out!"

She shifted her gaze to the sky to find a baseball flying her way. Her heart leapt as she stood up, hands in the air. Time seemed to stand still as she squeezed her eyes shut and reached out to catch the home run ball.

Within moments, there was a soft tingling feeling in the palm of her hand and along her fingers. She opened her eyes to find the ball clutched in her outstretched hand. People began to clap in excitement for her as she cupped it with both hands. She was excited to have caught it as a souvenir.

Just then, her eyes caught sight of a little boy not much older than her. His eyes met hers with a certain sadness hidden behind them. He was covered from head to toe in baseball gear to support his team. Clearly he was a huge fan. She then noticed dark marks just underneath his left eye and along the side of his neck. Her face fell with sadness for the boy, wondering what happened.

Upon noticing her staring, he immediately looked away, slumping down onto the bench. With a small smile, she walked over to him holding out the baseball to him.

"I want you to have it." The little boy smiled and gently took it from her hand.

"T-thank you..." He held it close as if not to lose it. "What's your name?" He asked shyly.

"Clarissa Hart." She held out her hand, as she had seen her parents do so many times, for a handshake.

Just as he was about to shake her hand and introduce himself, he was pulled by the arm who she assumed to be his mother at the time.

"Let's go." The woman spoke in a low raspy
voice.

The sparkle in the boys eyes vanished as he was dragged away, replaced with the sadness she saw earlier. He kept looking over his shoulder as if to say something but the woman kept tugging him forward relentlessly, keeping him from saying another word.

Clarissa sat back down, feeling bad for the little boy. She knew there was no chance she'd ever see him again and hoped he would be alright. This encounter stuck with her throughout her life.

Now she's twenty years old living in a small apartment in New York City where anything can happen.