“What is your name?” the woman then questions.

“I’m Harley,” she mumbles out.

“Hi there, Harley. My name is Candace. And this is my daughter, Cathy. Come on, sweetie, say hi.”

Cathy shuffles her feet and croaks, “Hello.”

This feels a little strange. Harley can’t remember if she has ever met another kid her age. Or if she ever had friends.

“So, Harley…” Candace starts in a hesitant voice. “What are you doing here all alone? Where are your parents? I’m sure they must be worried about you.”

“Oh! Uh…” Harley pauses.

Tell her the truth.
Lie and brush the topic aside.