You were acquainted with his name, and little else. The details of his past remained elusive, hints of a neglected history tethered to his cursed origins, yet nothing overtly traumatic lingered in your understanding.

Perhaps the depth of his experiences lay within his discretion.

Upon welcoming him into your care, he eschewed formal introductions in favor of a diversion: the game of "Hot or Cold," a simple yet increasingly challenging guessing pursuit.

His reticent and introverted demeanor didn't deter you. Concerns regarding his adjustment to school weighed on your mind, a natural worry for any guardian of a reserved child. Yet, to your relief, his preschool educators and peers lauded him as a prodigy—a child of remarkable intellect.

He thrived on affection, expressing gratitude and emotions predominantly through embraces and cuddles. Your lap became his sanctuary, a place where he sought solace, often guiding your hand to caress the smooth black stripe tracing his nose.

Today, however, the demands of work encroached upon your time together. Immersed in a report, you failed to notice his silent pleas for attention. The television blared, unaware of the distress it inflicted upon his sensitive ears.

He tugged at your sleeve, yearning for a comforting embrace, any semblance of acknowledgment. Yet, oblivious to his discomfort, your preoccupation persisted, unwittingly exacerbating his distress.

"Please," he uttered, breaking his weeks-long silence, his eyes widening with an urgency amplified by his muted pleas.

"Please, I need you," he whispered, his gentle tugs now desperate, the luminescence of the black stripe on his nose betraying his obvious discomfort, glowing a bright color and illuminating the nearby areas of skin detailing his small, frail face, as his cheeks, full and round, became wet with moisture.