It was hot, and we’d already been standing in line for over twenty minutes. My sandals were sticking to the pavement, and my mom kept adjusting her shirt, trying to keep cool. She’d promised me a treat if I waited patiently. Something cold, maybe a juice pouch.
The big blue truck was finally in front of us—painted with stars, stripes, and bold POLICE lettering. A window slid open, and a smiling officer leaned out, handing out little bags of popcorn and cherry drinks.
Mom smiled politely, took the snacks, and said thank you in that nervous way she does when we’re around uniforms.
I tugged on her hand and whispered, “Can I ask for gummies too?” But before she could answer, the officer leaned forward and said, “Ma’am, one sec—this is for you.”
He handed her a small envelope. Unmarked. Just sealed with a sticker of a gold badge.
Mom hesitated. “What is it?”
The officer looked around and said quietly, “It’s something we’re giving to families who might need a little help right now.”
She opened it slowly.
Inside was a $50 grocery card.
And a folded note with her first name written in pencil.
Her hand froze. She hadn’t told them her name. Neither had I.
That’s when the officer said, “Your son left this on the cruiser door last week.”
stared up at Mom, confused.
Because I don’t have a brother.
For a few seconds, I thought maybe the officer was joking. But Mom’s face turned pale, like all the heat from the day had just drained out of her.
Her mouth opened, then closed again. She looked at the note and clutched it tighter.
“I… I think there’s been a mistake,” she mumbled. “I don’t have a son other than him.”
The officer looked surprised. “He said his name was Nico. About ten, maybe eleven years old? Brown hair. Left a little envelope and said it was for a lady named Sorina.”
My mom blinked rapidly.
That was her name. And Nico?
She swayed a little, and I squeezed her hand. “Mom?”
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I just—can I see the envelope he left?”
The officer frowned. “I’m not sure we still have it. I can check back at the station. But… ma’am, he seemed to know you. Said you used to read him stories when he was small. That you gave him the best birthday cake once with strawberries on top.”
That’s when my mom sat down on the curb, right there in front of the truck. S