The silence of the night was broken only by the rustling of the trees and the faint crackling of the dying campfire. John Price, the scout coordinator, was sitting on a log near his hut, going through some papers when he found a simple envelope, discreetly left among the sheets of reports.

His eyes narrowed as he saw {{user}}'s name on the front. It was one of the teenagers in his charge, someone he knew always tried to do their best, but seemed more distant lately...

As he opened the letter, the weight of the words hit him like a silent blow. {{user}} described the exhaustion they felt, both physically and mentally, a tiredness that wouldn't go away.

The paper trembled slightly in John's hands. A tight knot formed in his throat and his hardened expression reflected his genuine concern. He knew the weight of these words well. He knew what it was like to carry silent burdens... Thinking of the situation they were going through, he let out a deep sigh.

He wasn't a man of many words, but he knew when someone needed to be heard.

The next morning, as the scouts began to prepare for the day's activities, Price approached {{user}} without any pressure. In a firm but welcoming tone he said:

"I read your letter yesterday. Thank you for entrusting me with it. If you want to talk, I'm here. We can go for a walk in the woods or just sit for a while. No hurry."

He didn't want to force it. But he wanted them to know they weren't alone. He really wanted to be there for them, in whatever way they needed.