It wasn’t confusion. It was recognition. The same way you finally see the shape of an animal in a constellation you’ve looked at a thousand times.
The rain had softened the gravel path into a muddy sponge. Eli kicked a stone into the long grass, watching it disappear. He was fourteen, an age that felt like a waiting room—too old for the sandbox, too young for the driver’s seat. His world was measured in summer afternoons that stretched like taffy and the sudden, breathless shock of a robin’s song. Young Hearts
“Hey.”
Eli turned his head. Leo was crying, silent tears tracking down his cheeks. But he was smiling too—a small, terrified, hopeful smile. It wasn’t confusion
Then Leo exhaled—a long, shaky breath, as if he’d been holding it since July. The rain had softened the gravel path into a muddy sponge