certain films have an effect on me sometimes.

a man and his son are running for a bus. they're broke and desperate; they can't bare to spend another night sleeping in a locked public toilet. if they miss this bus, the chance for a safe place to rest tonite will be gone.

the bus is about to leave. the man takes his six-year old son's hand and begins to yell in order to get the driver's attention. amidst the panic, the confused little boy drops his only possesion: a Captain America action figure. this toy is his one friend in the world. it reminds him of the home and the mother he used to have. besides his father, the toy is the only thing he trusts.

he pulls at his father's grasp and cries out, terrified of leaving his friend behind. however the bus is pulling away, and ignoring his son's protests, resorts to dragging him across the road. just in time, the driver sees them and opens the rusty doors. the man sighs with immense relief as the thought of the night in a secure place to stay comes back into focus. yet when he looks down at his son, he sees fresh, silent tears running down his cheeks.

following the boy's hopeless gaze, and outstretched hand, he spots a familiar action figure lying on its side in the road, abandoned. so quiet in his despair, the boy takes his father's hand and sobs into the sleeve of his suit. he understands why he had to leave his friend behind, but he can't help grieving. the boy will never seen his toy again.

how could something so precious be left behind and never returned to? why do the most devasting occurences usually happen in a matter of a seconds? such an impact deserves more time; even the little things like leaving a beloved toy lying in the road.

it makes me want to claw my stomach out.