It was half past 9 in the evening at the junction. The little boy, who was the same age as my younger brothers or nephews, was wandering around. No, he was trying to flip the bottle. The last time I saw him, the height that the bottle was thrown was much lower than this time. Maybe he’d been trying to level up.
Actually, I’d met this boy a few times before. Once, I got to wait for the traffic light to turn green and was a bit disappointed when he didn’t ask me to buy something for him or give him some money. Maybe he was trained to “sense” who had money or would be willing to donate some change. And according to his “sense,” I was not that qualified. But it was okay because I just had to put up with this disappointment for a few seconds before coming back to torturing myself with my overthinking thoughts about what had happened throughout the day, what I was saying wrong, etc.
At times, I still saw this boy, yet there was no red light at those events, so I just went straight forward without stopping to observe him. Today, I had a chance. The waiting time was 70 seconds. By the way, today was such a freaking tiring day. I needed a rest, so I was enjoying the time waiting for the green light.
I didn’t know why, but the boy asked everyone he saw at the junction today. Maybe he’d learned the hard way not to ignore anyone. “One star, one wish,” that simple motto sometimes seemed incomprehensive. And this time, I got asked by the boy, though I still looked as poor as the church mouse.
Much as I felt sorry for him, I could give him nothing. Money, of course not. My mom told me that donating money to those underprivileged people was just to feed the gangsters, forcing them to be in those tragic states. “Instead, we should give them some food to eat.” My mom sighed.
Unfortunately, I hardly brought along anything edible with me. And this time was no exception. I lightly shook my head like I did whenever I was asked by those kinds of street vendors or beggars, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him after he passed. He was turning swiftly from the right to the left, asking everyone as a well-trained robot. There were 45 seconds left.
I was surprised at the woman giving him 100,000 VND. He raised the tray with trivial items, such as nail cutters or cotton buds, suggesting something for her to buy. But she shook her head, implying that she wouldn’t buy anything and he could take all the money. The little boy gently nodded his head as a thank-you note for the woman before continuing with his own “business.” There were 30 seconds before I could go ahead, but typically, in this chaotic, oh, I mean, “hectic” and “dynamic” city, people would start off before the light turned green at least 5 seconds.
I kept watching the boy till he reached the other end of the line, and then I looked blankly into the void, calculating how much he would earn every night like this. Even when he didn’t get further help from anyone else among these waiting people, he could still make 100,000 VND in just a minute.
“That’s crazy! But there’s one thing I know for sure: he can never use the money he has to sacrifice his dignity, time, future, and the massive opportunity cost because some bad guys would take it away. If he is even unlucky, he would be beaten to look more miserable like a disabled, or forced to work as a prostitute, or worse, his organs would be robbed while he takes no anesthesia!”
There were only 5 seconds left. I regretfully thought about this short 70-second break on the road. The little boy quickly returned, and I only knew he was passing by me when something like the wind blew from behind. He left no sound, or the stress was just too noisy. Or only my mind went messy then.
On the way home, I couldn’t help thinking about that boy. What if my brothers were that unfortunate? What if someone took him away? Maybe there would be someone else to catch them right away, as these unlucky people were always under control…
I kept thinking nonstop and finally got home. Tiredly throwing myself on the sofa in the living room, I felt something wrong, though I didn’t know what it was.
“Let it be…” I silently told myself and intended to close my eyes for a while. I was totally exhausted.
As soon as I wanted to set the alarm clock, I realized that my phone wasn’t in the small front pocket of my backpack. Frustratingly, I opened other pockets, but the phone was nowhere to be found.
I was sitting quietly for a few seconds to calm down. Calmness may help in this situation.
“Lemme see… the last time I saw it…”
I still vividly remembered having a call with one of my friends about her wedding next week before going to the basement to take my motorbike.
So now, all of my doubt was on the little boy. He was on the street, he was raised by criminals, and he was quick and skillful; therefore, he was the significant suspect now. Are you street-smart, fast, and smooth enough to make money at any cost?
Afterward, I regretted feeling sorry for him. Anyway, my fatigue disappeared. Now, what I felt was just anger. Luckily, my laptop was still there. Or else, I would cry a river.
I decided to post something on my personal account to warn people about the terrible incident that happened to me today. The world was too cruel, especially for those innocent and careless like me.
My heart raced even harder after typing a few words. The reason was a requested message from a stranger popping up on the screen:
“We’ve got your phone. Send us 20.000.000 VND to take it back.”
The message was short, with only two sentences, but I freaked out. I could buy a new one, but there were tons of things on the phone that I didn’t want anyone to know. My bank account, my CCTV control, my messages, and so on. Before I could handle everything, the bad guys might take control of my personal information.
Then, I tried to log out of all the accounts on the phone. But the sad thing was I had to list the social networks I used beforehand. This would take a while, yet I felt like a thousand years had passed.
“Damn it! Such a bad day! What the hell is going on?”
I rubbed my hair. Even when not looking at the mirror, I still understood that I looked so bloody stupid.
For the first time in my life, I’d got a threat to ransom my phone for 20,000.000 VND. Of course, I hoped it was the last and the only one.
I’d successfully deactivated my bank account and logged out of all social networks.
I inhaled deeply and prayed. I wished those evils wouldn’t be as quick as me so they couldn’t exploit much of my precious data.
“Now it’s my turn!”
I smirked and replied:
“No matter where you are, I’ll find you and take you to court. If you’ve got my phone, you’d better know me. Just wait and see.”
The “phone kidnapper” kept silent for a while. I didn’t care. I could feel sorry for someone less fortunate than me, but it didn’t mean I was a harmless creature. I never wanted to hurt anyone, yet I was always willing to attack to defend myself once I got threatened.
I thought I could have someone discover the IP address of the sender. But before I asked for help, the “phone kidnapper” responded with a photo.
To my surprise, it was a mirror selfie of my coworker with my phone in the lift.
“Send me 100,000,000 VND to get your phone back, delivered to your doorstep, as now it contains such a treasure: my selfie.”
In reply, I texted:
“Okay, keep it to save your treasure.”
I turned off my laptop, grinning with slight grief for mistakenly accusing the little boy of pickpocketing my phone.
brillbro 