The boy's feet are muddy. His shoes are scuffed and worn; his clothes are frayed and torn. He looks at the ceiling breathlessly, mesmerized by the crowd, the Large Places, and the roaring of the train in his ears.

His face is gaunt, his eyes are listless, yet there is a faint glimmer. A hope or a memory - perhaps of happier days gone by, or happier days he wishes would come.

He turns to his side, a finger raised to point out a store that sold several kinds of ice cream to a companion that was no longer there.

The loneliness catches up with him and he sits against a column, jostled and shoved. The people look at him in disgust. In fear - though he could not understand why. He was just a boy. Perhaps a little hungry, perhaps a little muddy, perhaps a little (a lot) sadder than he had been only mere months before.

He misses his home, the countryside. The wide valleys, the tall grass, the scent of wildflowers, the feel of the wind, rushing past him as he runs, arms wide open, held out to the sky...

He misses his mother, her gentle hands, her soft touch, the smell of her cooking, wafting out of the kitchen. The white suds when she does the laundry. The laughter, the tickling, the fluffed-up pillows. Bedtime reading.

He misses his sister, his number one fan, his apprentice in all mischief. Her sunny smile, her tinkling giggle, the marbles she stole from him, the coloring books she'd colored out of the lines of. Her eyes, always hopeful, always expectant, ever faithful. Big brother would take care of everything!

Yet big brother is here, alone, unable to take care even of himself.

The city isn't so pretty after all. Everyone is in such a hurry. Nobody cares. Nobody smiles. Nobody trusts anyone else.

And he closes his eyes, finally too tired. He wishes he could see his home one more time, and not the grubby station, cold and unwelcoming - empty despite all the people. And as he draws his last breath, the station melts, and he sees them then, his wish at long last granted. He runs, his arms wide open, through a field of eternal sun, to figures waiting for him, calling no name but his own.