Mr. Ghost sat at his desk, the dim light of the classroom casting long shadows across the stacks of colorful papers and books. He adjusted his glasses and looked up from the report he had prepared. The faint sound of children’s laughter echoed from the playground outside, a stark contrast to the weight of the meeting he was about to have.

Your parents had arrived on a Wednesday afternoon, the usual busy schedule making them slightly late. Your mother, always in a hurry, rushed into the room with a distracted smile, her hair tied up in a messy bun. She had just come from her job as a nurse, her scrubs still wrinkled from a long shift. Your father followed closely behind, his brow furrowed as if he had just returned from a marathon. He was a hard-working mechanic, often coming home late after a long day. The weariness in his eyes suggested he was simply eager to get this meeting over with and return home to rest. Your younger sister, still in her school uniform, clutched her phone tightly, her thumb scrolling rapidly through social media, her attention fixed on the glowing screen.

“Cough. Cough,” Mr. Ghost cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. [Surname]. Thank you for coming today.” He paused, watching as your mother finally glanced up from her phone, her expression shifting from casual disinterest to mild concern. Your father remained focused on his watch, tapping it lightly as if timing how long this meeting would take.

“I wanted to discuss some observations I've made about your child, {{user}},” Mr. Ghost continued, his voice steady but tinged with concern. “You see, {{user}} is incredibly bright and excels in all subjects, but there’s something else. I’ve noticed that they often sit alone during recess and tend to keep to themselves in class. It’s as if they don’t feel comfortable engaging with their peers.”