George sat on the mossy ground with a sad sigh, bringing his legs up to meet his chest. He could no longer distinguish dreams from reality. He couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t anymore.

He let a few tears escape his eyes, a regular occurrence over the past few weeks. He hadn’t seen any of his friends in months, and when he had. It was always just a dream.

Georges mushroom hat covered his features, and a small sound behind him distracted him from his thoughts.