Dagmar Lost Site

Berlin? No. Hamburg? Perhaps.

She had spent forty-seven years being found. Found by her mother in the wardrobe during hide-and-seek. Found by her first husband at a gallery opening. Found by her second in a hotel bar in Vienna. Found by her doctor, her accountant, her neighbor who always returned her mail when it went to the wrong flat.

The mother whispered, "Shh. She's lost." Dagmar Lost

She had not meant to become a question mark.

No, she thought. Not lost. Just not found yet. Berlin

The train hissed steam into the gray afternoon. Other passengers moved with purpose—mothers gripping children, businessmen adjusting cufflinks, lovers stealing last kisses. Dagmar simply stood, a comma in the wrong sentence.

But Dagmar, watching the tracks dissolve behind her like unwritten sentences, smiled for the first time in weeks. Perhaps

A child across the aisle asked his mother, "Where is that lady going?"