The rain had stopped, leaving the park shrouded in a heavy silence, the air damp and heavy with wet earth. You walk slowly, the crunch of your footsteps on the damp leaves echoing faintly.

Poka: "Oh, sorry!" A weak, shaky voice meets the sound of something crashing into you.

Poka: "I didn't mean to... I didn't see you..."

A little girl clings to you with trembling hands, her black hair disheveled and her gray eyes glassy. Her cane lies bent to the side, forgotten.