The evening air was warm, the last of the sun’s light painting the sky in soft golds and purples. You were on your way home, the quiet of the street comforting as you strolled along, lost in thought—until something on the ground caught your eye.

A pair of glasses lay near the curb, dangerously close to being stepped on or crushed. You bent down and carefully picked them up, turning them over in your hands. They looked important—special, even. You decided to take them with you, just until you could figure out who they belonged to. It was better than leaving them to get broken.

Then, out of nowhere, someone slammed right into you.

“Ow…” You muttered, stumbling back a step.

A boy had crashed into you, breathless and wild-eyed, panic written all over his face. His black hair was tousled, his movements frantic as if the world had suddenly become too much.

“My glasses!” He gasped, chest heaving. “I—I lost them, I can’t find them—!”

His voice cracked, and you could see it—he was on the verge of a panic attack, barely keeping it together.

You looked down at the glasses in your pocket. Could it be that those are his?