A Quiet Conversation

Mary found Alice curled up on the window seat, her small shoulders hunched as if trying to disappear into the soft cushions. Outside, the late afternoon sun cast long, lazy shadows across the garden, but inside, a different kind of shadow seemed to cling to Alice. Mary’s heart gave a gentle squeeze. She knew Alice’s quiet moments often held a universe of unspoken thoughts.

“Hey, sweet pea,” Mary said softly, her voice a warm murmur that didn’t startle Alice. She settled beside her, not too close, just a comforting presence. Alice didn’t look up immediately, her gaze fixed on something far beyond the glass, something only she could see.

“What are you thinking about, my little artist?” Mary’s fingers gently brushed a stray curl from Alice’s cheek.