Once upon a time, in a small, peaceful village in the heart of the French countryside, life moved slowly and days were filled with simplicity. One day, I decided to send my two sons, Jean and Pierre, to the village store to do some shopping. They were excited to accomplish this task together, thus strengthening their brotherhood.
“Make sure you grab everything we need, boys, and don’t take too long,” I said, handing them a carefully written list.
The two brothers left, hand in hand, with an empty wicker basket which promised to be filled with provisions for the coming week. The sun was shining in the summer sky, creating a warm and comforting atmosphere.
However, time passed longer than expected, and the sun began to set with no sign of my sons returning. Worry began to creep into my mind, and I found myself looking anxiously out the window, scanning every corner for the familiar silhouettes of Jean and Pierre.
Finally, the door creaked and swung slightly, revealing the lonely figure of Jean, the eldest son. His face was pale and marked with anguish. He avoided my gaze, and a heavy silence settled in the room.
“Where is Peter?” I asked in a trembling voice.
Jean hesitated before responding in a weak voice. “He stayed at the store, Mom. He wanted to check something and asked me to go home alone.”
An icy shiver ran down my spine. “Why did you leave him alone, Jean?” I exclaimed, panic settling in my eyes.
Tears ran down Jean’s cheeks as he recounted how Pierre had decided to stay at the store for a few more moments. Worry grew within me with each word. Without missing a beat, I rushed to the village store, praying that I would only find my youngest son immersed in a discussion with the shopkeeper.
However, upon arrival, my worst fears were realized. The store was silent, the lights dimmed and the doors closed. I frantically pushed the door open to find a frightening silence. My eyes finally landed on Pierre, lying on the ground, unconscious.
Panic overwhelmed me, and my knees buckled under the weight of anxiety. The villagers came running to my call for help, and someone ran to get medical help.
The reason for Pierre’s unconsciousness remained unknown, and a ball of anxiety formed in my stomach. The minutes seemed like hours as we waited helplessly for the doctor to examine my son.
When the diagnosis came, I learned that Pierre had a severe allergic reaction to something he had touched at the store. My strength left me, and I lost consciousness, overwhelmed by the relief of knowing that he would be treated, but also by the fear of the unknown who had almost taken my son.
