The Homeless child

In the heart of a bustling city, amidst the crowded streets and towering buildings, there lived a child no one knew. His name was Sami, but even that seemed to fade with time. He wandered through the alleys and parks, his small figure blending into the background, unnoticed by passersby. He had no family to call his own, no place to return to when the day turned to night. The world seemed to rush by, too busy to see him, to acknowledge the life behind his wide, searching eyes.

Sami had learned to survive by being invisible. At first, it had frightened him—the loneliness, the hunger, the cold. But as the days blurred into weeks, he became used to being unseen. He watched people laugh, cry, and hurry along with their lives, while he existed in the spaces they left behind. Sometimes, when he sat on a park bench or huddled under a bridge, he would imagine a different life. A home. A family. A place where his name meant something to someone.

His days were filled with small victories. A piece of bread from a bakery left unattended, a warm corner of a library where he could pretend to read, though the words often escaped him. At night, he listened to the hum of the city, wondering if anyone ever noticed the boy who disappeared as quickly as he arrived. Sami often wondered if he would always remain a ghost in the city that never looked back.

But even in his quiet solitude, Sami held onto something—hope. He didn’t know where it came from or why it refused to leave him, but it flickered in his heart like a tiny flame. Perhaps one day, someone would see him, not as a shadow or an afterthought, but as a child who still had a story waiting to be told.