“Do you hear that crying?” she addressed the random people who were following her in.
“I don’t hear anything,” one man brushed off.
Another woman shook her head: “Probably your imagination…”
But Christina was sure she had heard something real. She decided to follow the sound. Venturing a little deeper into the nook between the garbage chute and the stairwell—where old furniture was usually piled up—she noticed a small bundle. And from there, indeed—a barely audible little child’s voice, crying. Her heart froze; she leaned over and carefully lifted the edge of a blanket. What she saw shook her to the core: an infant, a little one, perhaps only a week old at most. Its cheeks were pale, lips blue from the cold or—God forbid—malnourishment.
“Oh my God,” she breathed, feeling her hands tremble.
The child was haphazardly wrapped in some old, thin blanket, without even a proper diaper. “This is just abandoned!” a thought flashed through her mind. “Who could do such a thing?!”
Christina felt a surge of horror and pity. She immediately dialed 03:
“Hello, ‘Ambulance’, I…I found an infant in the entrance hall. It seems he’s been abandoned. Please come quickly, the address is such and such…”
The operator clarified the details, and Christina tried to keep her panic in check: “Yes, he’s alive, but he’s crying…” After finishing the call, she crouched in front of the bundle:
“Shh, little one,” she whispered, though the baby could barely hear. “I won’t hurt you, everything will be alright…”
