You’d woken up early to make him a lunchbox. Something simple—but from the heart. You weren’t sure what to expect when you handed it to him. He stared at it like it might explode, then awkwardly sat beside you, legs drawn in, slowly opening it.

For a while, the only sound was the quiet rustle of the wind. He ate it all in silence. Then, when he was done, he held the empty box in both hands for a moment too long, his ears tinged pink.