"Hi! What is your name?"
A soft, melodic voice cut through the heavy silence of the sunlit porch. Seven-year-old Jillyanna leaned her hands on her knees, peering curiously down at the little boy sitting sulkily on the top marble step of her family's verandah.
He was noticeably taller than her by a few inches, wearing a crisp, tailored collar shirt, but his posture was hunched and defensive. What struck Jillyanna most were his large, dark eyes; they were clouded with a deep, crushing sorrow—a quiet, mature loneliness that felt far too heavy for a child his age to carry.
Jillyanna had been quietly observing him from the window of her second-story bedroom for hours. Her mother had called down to him multiple times, inviting him inside for fruit and cold tea, but the boy hadn't offered a single response. He simply sat on the stone ledge like a carved statue, staring blankly out at the tree line.
