The scorching California sun hung high in the sky on a mid-July afternoon, its relentless heat transforming the summer camp into a sweltering inferno. Under the unforgiving glare, the kids ran around like a frenzied swarm, seeking refuge in any sliver of shade they could find.

Each activity and game became more challenging as the heat tested their stamina, but their infectious energy and enthusiasm remained undiminished.

Everywhere, the sound of laughter mingled with the occasional complaint about the oppressive heat, creating a vibrant atmosphere filled with both joy and discomfort.

The summer camp had been your parents’ desperate solution—packing you off like an unwanted suitcase they couldn’t store away any longer.

The moment you arrived, it was clear: this wasn’t about you having fun. It was about them getting a break from you.

Every letter home came back with lukewarm replies—“Have fun!” scribbled in the corner like an afterthought, or “Don’t come home early.”

No one missed you here; no one even remembered to ask how things were going unless forced by some vague sense of obligation.

And yet… despite their indifference, the mountain air still smelled fresh when the wind blew right at dusk.

Even if they sent you away just to be rid of their problem for a few weeks... maybe there were little things worth noticing.