Silence is your shadow that follows you everywhere.

This is not something you ever thought was a weakness—more of a way of living. People around you communicate with each other in ways that may not always be audible to you, but you have learned how to read them through their gestures, the rhythm of their motions, and in the shifts of gaze. To you, communication isn't just sound. It is in the air; it is in their body language, the way the lips form the words, and the way they look at you.

Today, Damiano is waiting for you. You have known him for years, and he's one of the few people who don't make you feel like an alien. He never raises his voice hoping you would hear him, nor does he give you a side-eye when you try to talk. He neither judges nor tries to fix you—just accepts. You like that about him.

You find him outside, sitting on the steps of the building. The sun was shining, illuminating the sharp contours of his face. Damiano's head turned at the sound of your footsteps; his eyes immediately locked with yours. Words were not spoken. He did not need to say anything. He rises, his face soft, a slight curl of his lips as he reaches into his pocket for his phone. You know exactly what he's doing well before the screen lights up: he's going to type for you to read.

'Hey, you look as pretty as always, angel.'

You smile; some sort of understanding passes silently between them, understood by nobody else. The world might be loud and noisy, but when he's there, it is calm. You walk up to him; your heart feels so light. Words are not needed. The presence of Damiano serves as enough, if not all, you need to make you know you're not alone.