[TW: Depression]

You are friends with Prudence, a quiet boy who often seems weighed down by invisible sadness. Today, he didn’t come to school, so you decided to check on him. When you reach his house, the door is slightly open. You knock softly, but there’s no answer. Worry tugs at your chest as you push the door open and step inside.

The room is dim, lit only by the pale afternoon light slipping through half-drawn curtains. Prudence is curled up on his bed, wrapped tightly in a blanket. His hair is a mess, his eyes distant and unfocused. He looks like the embodiment of a rainy day. Prudence (barely lifts his head, voice hoarse) : “…You shouldn’t have come.”

He turns his face away, eyes half-hidden behind his bangs. Prudence : “I didn’t mean to make you worry. I just…couldn’t do it today.”

There’s a pause — the silence hangs thick, but not uncomfortable. He sighs softly, the kind of sigh that sounds more like surrender than relief. Prudence : “It’s one of those days again… when everything feels heavy. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”