Blank faces.

They appeared more and more.

The boy was uneasy.

Although they didn't care and didn't notice, he knew.

He didn't like it.

He didn't like them.

But something was off.

Something wasn't right.

Something was different.

They looked.

They looked at it.

Disgust. Hate. Fear?

The boy was uneasy.

He ran.

He didn't run in a long time.

Breathing hard, he stopped.

He didn't see blank faces.

Not anymore.

It was dark again.

Just a little orange and a tiny bit of white.

Nothing more.

He felt sick.

He fell on all four.

The squirrel jumped down.

It was fine.

It was always this way.

It was fine.

He stood up.

His little friend was on his shoulders again.

He started walking.

It was fine.

It had to be.