Henry's POV
If this was his memory of the circus, this woman had to naturally be his mother.
How often did I bypass them on my numerous ways in and out of the tent?
I had only recently thought of finding his little self instead of the adult man, never expecting it would be his tiny self that would hide here.
This was a baby, a toddler of maybe 2-3 years old.
No, nothing about this held any importance.
Wiping the tears spilling from my eyes, I removed the hood covering my head and made sure my dog ears were in place.
"Tiny love, it's me, your puppy." No matter how hard I tried to sound composed, my voice broke.
I took a breath, wiping my face again with my sleeve, my other hand still on his back.
"Will you come to me? Will you come into my arms?"
The child didn't move, nor did the woman holding him.
I found no resemblance to Kenny's mother in her, maybe because of the smudged face or just because his memory of her had long faded.
