When a teenager saw a young girl sobbing while sitting on the asphalt, he chose to go up to her, but something unexpected happened.
Ten years old Mark cherished the time he spent at the train station. To him, this bustling, boisterous area of the city appeared unique. He came here alone most of the time, but occasionally with friends. He enjoyed doing his homework while perched on the bench by platform three or simply observing the trains as they passed by and daydreaming about future travels.
The day began as usual. Mark was settling into his routine when he spotted something odd: a young girl was sitting on the asphalt extremely near to a lamppost. little, perhaps four or five years of age. She was crying resentfully and ignoring everyone as she gave her teddy bear a firm hug.
Despite his confusion, Mark chose to approach the girl, and then an unexpected event occurred.
— What is causing your tears? Are you by yourself?
The girl merely shook her head and gave her toy a tighter embrace without responding. He took a seat next to her:
— Are you lost? What is your name?
“Sara,” she muttered. Mom ordered me to wait here while she went to acquire tickets. However, she hasn’t returned in a while.
Mark scowled. After more than thirty minutes at the station, he had yet to see a mother with a child.
Are you aware of your mother’s phone number?
The girl nodded and dictated it while crying.
From his backpack, Mark took out his ancient button phone, which his parents had given him “just in case.” He pressed the button. A couple of rings. Someone answered.
— Hi? — a female voice in concern.
— Hi there. I tracked down your daughter. She’s at the station, close to the third platform. She is crying while sitting by herself.
The woman nearly let out a scream. — She was gone when I returned from a little trip to pick the tickets! I’m frantically phoning security while I dash around the station!
— She is present. “It’s all right,” Mark said. — I’m with her.
The woman arrived in a matter of minutes, breathless, holding her phone and crying. “Sweetheart, forgive me… forgive me…,” she repeated as she embraced the girl.
After the situation had somewhat subsided, the woman turned to face Mark:
I’m grateful. She must have taken the wrong turn when I briefly left her. It’s terrible. If it weren’t you… Had she entered the tracks… I appreciate it; you are a hero.
Mark simply shrugged. Although he felt a little uncomfortable, he felt warm and fuzzy within.
