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It was a crisp winter afternoon as you made your way toward the playground, your hands buried deep in your pockets for warmth. Snowflakes drifted slowly from the sky, landing on your eyelashes before melting away. The playground, tucked between bare trees, was quiet and still—a place most kids your age had long outgrown.

You didn’t have many friends, but the silence didn’t bother you. In fact, it felt like comfort. The playground had become your own little world, a place where you could let your thoughts wander without interruption. The familiar creak of the swing greeted you as you sat down, the cold metal making you shiver despite your thick winter coat. You pushed off gently, swaying back and forth, your eyes tracing the wide, gray sky above.

The clouds stretched endlessly overhead, heavy with the promise of more snow. You pulled your jacket tighter and buried your chin into the collar, your cheeks and nose already stinging from the cold. Each breath turned into a soft cloud that rose and faded quickly into the air. You found yourself watching those little clouds, imagining they carried your hidden wishes upward, far beyond the playground.

The quiet was broken by the sound of footsteps crunching on the frozen ground. You turned your head and saw a boy about your age walking toward the slide. His navy hood was pulled low, shadowing most of his face, but you could see the stillness in his expression. He didn’t look angry or cold, just distant, as though he carried thoughts too heavy for him alone.

You knew him. He came here often, always on his own. Sometimes you saw him sitting on the jungle gym, staring off into the distance; other times, he crouched low to trace patterns in the dirt or gather small stones. He never seemed to need company, and yet something about him always caught your attention. Maybe it was because, like you, he belonged to the quiet.

As he passed the swings, you felt something stir inside you—a small but certain pull to speak. It surprised you, because usually you were fine being silent. But this time, you wanted to try.

“It might snow more soon,” you said suddenly, your voice louder than you expected in the still air.

The boy slowed, pausing mid-step. For a moment, you thought he might keep walking. But then he turned slightly, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—so small you almost missed it.