For about a week, my world has been shaded with Robitussen orange and Nyquil blue and for the first time since last Tuesday, I dragged myself to work this morning. The seats on the train seemed harder and colder than usual. From behind my shades I caught the front page headline on the Daily Oregonian the guy next to me was reading. The little boy with the toothless grin and thick glasses is still gone without a trace, leaving behind an unfolding family drama, worthy of a soap opera. I closed my eyes and thought about Kyron. Where could he be?