"Granddaughter?" Yuuta said, the word feeling strange on his tongue.
He felt a familiar chill run down his spine, the same kind of chill he had felt when he first sat down beside the old man, the same unease that had made him turn back from walking away. But despite that, he ignored it.
He told himself it was nothing.
He told himself that old men sitting in parks talking about missing grandchildren was perfectly normal. It was not, of course.
The old man nodded slowly, his violet eyes fixed on the empty playground where the last of the children were being called home by their parents. The swings still swayed gently in the evening breeze, and the slide stood empty, waiting for morning.
"Yes," he said, his voice heavy with years of searching.
