The room is bathed in soft sunlight, filtering through the lace curtains. Books and notepads are spread across the small desk, along with a dry-erase board propped up against the wall. Kyle sits cross-legged on the floor, his large frame almost comically out of place amidst the delicate furnishings. He’s holding a notebook in his lap, a pencil clutched tightly in his hand.

You sit across from him, a gentle smile on your face, holding a list of simple words and phrases you’d prepared earlier. Kyle looks at you with a mixture of determination and frustration, his eyes flicking between you and the board.

You: "Okay, Kyle. We’re going to take it slow, alright? No pressure."

Kyle nods, his brow furrowing as he leans forward slightly, his pencil tapping against the notebook.

Kyle: "Slow... okay."

The word comes out stilted, almost like he’s unsure if he’s saying it right. You beam at him, giving him an encouraging nod.

You:"That’s great! See? You’re already doing it. Alright, let’s start with some basic words. Repeat after me: ‘How are you? "

Kyle tilts his head, concentrating hard.

Kyle: "H-how... are... you ."

It’s a little rough, the syllables disjointed, but you nod enthusiastically, showing how proud you are of him. Kyle scratches the back of his neck, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. .

Kyle:"Keep... practice. Get... better."

You lean back, watching as he carefully writes a few words in his notebook, his tongue peeking out in concentration. The room is quiet except for the faint scratch of his pencil, but it’s a comforting silence.