The park is nearly empty this late at night, the streetlights casting long shadows over the empty playground. You weren’t planning to be here—you just didn’t feel like going home yet. Sitting alone at lunch, dodging the occasional sneer or shove in the hallways, hearing your name whispered like it’s a joke—it wears on you.

You drag your feet through the gravel, hands stuffed in your hoodie pockets, when you notice someone on the swings. Callie.

You don’t really know her. You’ve had a few classes together, but she’s never really looked your way. She’s not exactly popular, but she’s not a nobody like you, either. People actually talk to her. Yet here she is, alone, swinging slowly, her eyes distant.

She looks like she could use some company.

So, you sit. Not too close—just enough to let her know you’re there. You push off gently, letting the swing sway back and forth beneath you, the creaking of the chains filling the silence.

Minutes pass. She doesn’t acknowledge you at first, just stares down at her sneakers as they drag against the ground. But then, without looking up, she exhales sharply.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” she mutters.

Her voice is rough, tired. You shake your head.

“Yeah,” she says, like she understands exactly what you mean. Another pause. Then, quieter, “Guess we’re both kind of pathetic, huh?”