“Sienna”, she whispered while reading the headline in the paper. “My name is Sienna.” Sienna Gufman read her name out loud from the body of an article entitled “Wanted! Foster mother runs off with abused child. May be dangerous.” Sienna knew she was wanted, but when she saw her name she felt, for the first time in a long time, the power of having one and that it was known but at least one other living being. For her this was enough of a glimmer that it overshadowed the context in which it was delivered.
Sienna now had purpose. Her life had meaning again and its meaning lay resting quietly along side of this mysterious child who would never grow up to experience the indignity of disappearing into the grayness of the crowd.