It’s almost dark when I leave the house.

No real reason. I just needed to breathe. Needed to not be inside.

The neighborhood’s quiet at this hour. Houses with flickering TVs behind curtains, porch lights blinking on, dogs barking at nothing. I shove my hands in my hoodie pocket and keep walking.

I don’t go far. Just enough to feel like I’m somewhere else.

Eventually I end up at the park. It’s mostly empty. Just a few kids on the swings, a dad scrolling his phone while his toddler collects sticks.

I sit on a bench and pull the notebook from my bag.

I didn’t plan on bringing it.

But I did.

I flip to Logan’s page.

His writing’s not fancy—kind of blunt, kind of rushed—but there’s something in it. This moment where his character steps forward. Not to fix anything. Not to play hero. Just… to see.

That hits harder than I want to admit.

I trace the line with my thumb.

“Not to save him. Just to see if he’d look up.”

Why would someone want to see someone like me look up?

It’s just a story. It’s just school.

But I’m not used to people stepping into my forest, even pretend ones.