A shiver ran down my spine, though I couldn’t quite pinpoint why. I straightened up, my mind racing with possibilities. Was this some elaborate prank? A figment of the child’s imagination? Or something else entirely?

Back inside the theater, the manager joined us, a concerned expression on her face. “We’ve checked all the theaters and public areas,” she said. “No one’s reported a missing child fitting his description.”

I thanked her, though it did little to ease the growing knot of anxiety in my stomach. The mall cop suggested calling the police, and I nodded, knowing it was the logical next step. Yet, there was a part of me—a part that I couldn’t quite silence—that whispered something else was at play.

While we waited, I kept the boy close, trying to distract him with small talk. He told me his name was Oliver, and that he liked dinosaurs and spaghetti. As we spoke, a peculiar warmth began to spread through my chest, a protective instinct I couldn’t quite explain.