What... Was It? (A Bedtime Story)

THAT

"That child, is he real?" I asked, pinning myself to the corner of the seat.

In order to feel less, I had to detach myself as much as I could go, and here's what I got. A short frail girl, back with another round of deleting mental images, riding on the backseat of a police car.

The child I pointed at held his chest as if he was both shocked of the nonsense and also kinda doubting his existence.

"He is real, ma'am," the policeman answered after the child gave him a look desperate for help.

A couple of sighs blew from him and I, as the policeman chuckled quitely.

"What happened?" I asked the boy, because his sigh was as deep as mine.

"I saw a crazy lady running in the streets, so I ran too, and met Gus." He pointed at the driver. "He told me not all have to be crazy to run like she did, but! She really, really looked like cuckoo, you know?"

I was speechless, the hints were obvious.

"She was screaming loudly Ahhhhhh!" The boy mimicked me exactly, raising his tiny hands. "And her hair was so messy, and her jacket was messy, and her face was...messy."

At this point, my palm covered my mouth in shame. The policeman seemed to do the same, but was hiding laughter instead.

"And you? What happened? You look like me when I got my first chicken pox." This child humbled me like he was paid to do so, and worked on commission.

"I... I ran through the streets too."

"Really? Did you see me run away so fast like cheetah?"

"Not really...I was busy running away from a man."

"What man?"

"I think him," I whispered, pointing sneakily at the one driving.

The boy gasped, but instantly pursed his lips.

"Is he bad?" He asked in the same volume.

"I don't think so, I may have thought wrong of him."

"Ahhh."

"What do you think?"

"I think... mama is going to be real mad when I get home."