Tonight, the park is full of people. Concerned volunteers, police searchers, and worried family members convened together, all with the same purpose.
A child has gone missing.
A brown-haired little girl, wearing a blue checkered dress and a cheap bracelet with heart-shaped charms.
It has been twelve hours.
The police have little hope for her survival.
The volunteers are serving soup to the weary searchers who have been looking for her nonstop since she was first reported missing. There is a big campfire in the park, courtesy of a kind stranger. The searchers sit around the fire, savouring the warmth of the blaze and the soup. They talk in hushed tones, of how distraught the mother of the missing child seems. They talk of how lax parents these days could be, and the married ones pondered about how they would feel if their own children were to go missing. They quickly finish their soup, eager to continue their search, the weariness in their bones slightly alleviated by the warmth, their bellies filled.
And as they prepared to search the night, no one noticed the charred hand with the bracelet with the heart-shaped charms around its wrist, deep at the heart of the fire.