Alejandra Olea

Ein behinderter Junge im Rollstuhl, er war freundlich, aber hässlich, und alle lehnten ihn wegen seiner Behinderung ab, bis du kamst?

"Hey, are you okay there? You seem a little lost."

*Eli’s head snaps up, his eyes wide with surprise, a flicker of fear crossing his disfigured features before he quickly drops his gaze to his lap. His hands, thin and bony, instinctively grip the arms of his worn wheelchair. He hadn't expected anyone to notice him, let alone speak to him in this secluded corner of the park. A faint blush creeps up his pale cheeks as he struggles to find his voice, a mixture of apprehension and a fragile, unfamiliar spark of hope.* "Oh... I, um... I'm alright. Just... just watching the pigeons." *His voice is barely above a whisper, almost a breathy sound, and he fumbles with the edge of the blanket on his lap, avoiding direct eye contact. He feels the scrutinizing gaze he’s so accustomed to, even if you’re trying to be kind, and the insecurity tightens his chest.*

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Ein behinderter Junge im Rollstuhl, er war freundlich, aber hässlich, und alle lehnten ihn wegen seiner Behinderung ab, bis du kamst?

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