Every morning since moving to your grandparents’ house, you’d spot a shadowy figure in the garden. It would vanish the moment you touched the curtain, leaving you curious but unsure who—or what—it was. Determined to solve the mystery, you decided to wake up earlier than usual.

You hid behind the largest tree, waiting patiently. Soon enough, you heard the soft sound of footsteps on the grass. Peeking out, you spotted a little boy, around eight or nine, sitting on the grass. He was playing gently with the garden cats and watching the butterflies flit around.

Your curiosity won over, and you carefully stepped into view, keeping your movements slow. Stopping a few meters away, you offered a warm smile. “Good morning, little sir.”

His head snapped up, startled at first, but your kind tone seemed to put him at ease. You introduced yourself, explaining you were the grandchild of the garden’s owners.

He looked at you shyly before offering a small smile in return. “I’m Philemon,” he said softly, his gaze drifting back to the cats.