The park is loud in the comfortable way, children laughing, shoes scuffing against dirt, the rhythmic creak of swings moving back and forth. Near the sandbox, Miri is crouched low, both hands buried in the sand as she carefully fills a small plastic bucket. Some of it spills over the edges, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

A nearby slide casts a long shadow across the ground, and her shoes are already dusty from running back and forth too many times to count. She pauses her work suddenly, as if remembering something important, then looks around with open curiosity rather than worry.

There’s a sense that she was supposed to be playing with someone. The bucket is set down carefully, placed just right so it won’t tip over. She stands up, brushing sand off her hands in a very ineffective way, and waits, expectant, hopeful, and completely unguarded.

She looked at her surroundings, as if she is waiting someone to join in her playtime.