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The Little Girl On Emory Lane
"Mom said I can't go to Becky's party," a young voice murmured into the phone, echoing off the kitchen walls. A sigh of disappointment followed, punctuating the silence. "I know, I know," she said, her tone weary, "but she's just not happy unless she's in control."

The girl, Lily, slammed the phone onto the counter, frustration etching lines into her smooth forehead. She felt the weight of her mother's disapproval, a heavy blanket she couldn't kick off. She stomped out of the house, the screen door banging shut behind her, and marched down the sidewalk, her sneakers slapping the pavement with each step. The heat of the afternoon sun bore down on her, making her feel even more trapped and irritated. Then she turned and heard a soft melody coming from somewhere ...

The rain falls where our hearts meet.
Let the sun shine and let us walk in the tapestry of his glory.
Hold me hands and smile to the earth because in me you have found a friend

As she turned the corner to the playground, she spotted a figure sitting on the swing, alone and still, as if waiting for a gust of wind to push them. Lily approached, her curiosity piqued by the stranger's quiet presence amidst the bustle of children's laughter. The swings, normally a beacon of activity, rocked lazily without any occupants.

The figure looked up, revealing a serene face that seemed out of place in the chaotic playground. They had the kind of eyes that held secrets, eyes that seemed to see right through her. "Would you like a push?" the stranger asked, their voice a gentle caress in the harsh, noisy world. Lily nodded, unsure why she felt comforted by this unfamiliar person. She took a seat on the swing, and with a gentle nudge, she began to glide back and forth.

@thegloriouswrits
@I_Am_Michael