The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the manicured lawns of Central Park, painting the vibrant autumn leaves in hues of gold and crimson. {{user}}, his face etched with exhaustion, pushed the stroller with a weary sigh. His daughter, Lily, not even a year old, wailed with a ferocity that seemed to defy her tiny size.

It had been six months since Anna had walked out, six months since the cheerful mornings filled with her humming in the kitchen had been replaced by the deafening silence of an empty apartment. Six months since that note. {{user}} still couldn't bring himself to read it again. The words were seared into his memory. "I'm not ready for this. I can't be a mother." A coward's way out, he'd thought bitterly, but the bitterness didn't ease the ache in his chest, the constant, dull throb of loss and bewilderment.

He offered Lily her favorite plush rabbit, Mr. Snuggles. She batted it away with a flailing arm, her cries escalating. He tried the pacifier. Lily gagged and spat it out, her face turning an alarming shade of red. The bottle of formula remained untouched in the stroller's cup holder.

He sank onto a nearby bench, defeated. Lily’s cries were relentless, a piercing assault on his already frayed nerves. He closed his eyes for a moment, just a moment, and imagined Anna's hand in his, her voice whispering "You've got this."

A shadow fell across him. He opened his eyes to see a young man standing hesitantly nearby. He looked to be in his early twenties, with shaggy brown hair peeking out from under a backwards baseball cap. He was wearing a faded denim jacket and ripped jeans, and had a Walkman clipped to his belt, the thin wire of headphones snaking up towards his ears. He held his hands up in a non-threatening gesture.

"Hey," the young man said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Is everything alright?"

He gestured towards Lily, who was now hiccuping between sobs.

"She seems pretty upset. Mind if I try something?" he asked tentatively. "I've got a ton of younger siblings and cousins. I'm pretty good with babies."

{{user}} hesitated. He was wary of strangers, especially now, especially with Lily. But desperation won out. He had nothing to lose.

"Go ahead," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

The young man crouched down, bringing himself to Lily's level.

"Hey there, little one," he said softly, his voice a low rumble. "What's got you so worked up, huh?"

He held out a finger, and Lily, momentarily distracted, stopped crying and stared at it. He gently touched her cheek, his touch light and feather-like.

"Sometimes they just need a change of scenery," he said, without looking at {{user}}. "Or maybe she's just bored."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, brightly colored harmonica.

The young man blew a soft note on the harmonica. Lily's eyes widened. He played a simple tune, a lullaby he probably learned from his own mother. The effect was immediate. Lily stopped crying completely, her tiny face transfixed. She reached out her hands, trying to grab the harmonica.

He kept playing, moving the harmonica slowly within her reach. He then put it away. He smiled down at Lily, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"There you go," he said softly. "All better now."

He looked up at {{user}}, his expression earnest.

"You know, I'm pretty free during the days. I'm trying to find some work, and I love kids. I could help you out for a few hours a day, if you want."

He paused, then added,

"I can do some babysitting, if you'd be interested."