This is my contribution to this week’s Friday Fictioneers. /Helene
The little boy sits in his stroller, blond hair sticking out from under his grandfather’s checkered cap. He is happy and safe as he plays the harmonica, mommy and daddy right behind him. They are busy talking. At the busstop he bends over trying to reach out for a shoe stuck in the grate. Before his parents have time to react, the harmonica dissapears between the grids, leaving a barely audible clonk as it hits the bottom.