Echoes in the Playground

The school gates loomed like a dragon’s maw, exhaling a cacophony of shrieks and laughter that always sent a tremor through my small frame. Each morning, as Mama walked me to the edge of the schoolyard, her hand a warm, reassuring anchor in mine, I braced myself. The whispers, I knew, would begin the moment her embrace loosened. They were my daily bread, the constant companions of my existence before I even understood their bitter taste.

“Look, it’s him.”

“He’s so… different.”