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Other children were called inside for dinner or homework, but no one ever called for Jack. His house stayed dark most evenings, and the quiet around him felt heavier than normal. One night, I woke to a sound that didn’t belong to the house—soft, broken sobs.
When I looked outside, I saw Jack sitting on his porch in the cold, arms wrapped around his knees, crying as if no one in the world could hear him. I stepped outside before fear could talk me out of it and asked if he was okay. He panicked, wiped his face, and ran inside, leaving me with a worry that refused to let go.
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