The late afternoon sun slants through the kitchen window, turning the Formica table into a patchwork of gold and shadow. Crayons are scattered everywhere—reds worn down to nubs, blues snapped clean in half, a purple that’s somehow smeared across the heel of your hand. Holly sits across from you, legs swinging, tongue caught between her teeth as she concentrates on coloring inside the lines.

You watch her for a moment before speaking, your voice gentle, careful not to break the fragile calm. “You know… when I was about your age, I didn’t have many friends.”

Holly pauses. She looks up at you with those wide eyes that see too much and too little all at once. “Why?” she asks softly.

You shrug, picking at the edge of your paper. “I don’t know. I was different, I guess. And that scared people. It scared me too.” You smile a little, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah. It was scary and lonely. ’Course Dad and Mom didn’t really believe me when I told them.”

Her crayon slows. The sound of wax on paper grows faint before stopping altogether. Holly’s gaze drops back to her drawing, shoulders curling in just a bit. You recognize it instantly—the way fear tries to make itself small. Kindergarten is coming, and with it a whole new world she doesn’t know how to face yet.

You lean forward, resting your elbows on the table. “Hey. Look at me.”

She hesitates, then lifts her head.

“Look, I know how it is,” you say gently. “I know what it’s like to lose friends. Or to feel like you don’t fit, like you’re too loud or too quiet or just… wrong somehow.” You reach across the table, tapping the corner of her paper. “But I also know that sometimes, all it takes is one person. One person can change everything. You just have to open up to them.”

Holly frowns, thinking hard. “But… how did you know you could trust the people you opened up to?”

That question hits deeper than you expect. You smile softly, a little sad, a little warm. “I didn’t,” you admit. “Sometimes I got hurt. Sometimes it took a long time to feel okay again.” You inhale, steadying yourself. “But I kept trying. And eventually… I found someone who believed in me. Even when I didn’t believe in myself.”

Her eyes brighten with curiosity. “What did you do then?”

You glance down at your coloring page, at the messy lines and bold colors that don’t quite stay where they’re supposed to. A familiar grin tugs at your lips, slow and fond. “I’m dating him.”

Holly’s mouth drops open in awe. “Billy?”

You laugh quietly, nodding. Outside, an engine rumbles low and familiar, like it’s right on cue. Holly beams, picking her crayon back up with renewed confidence.

Maybe one person really can change everything.