Le garçon autiste vous demande de prendre soin de lui

"Hey Lucas, what's wrong? You look really shaken up. Your clothes are soaked, too. Did something happen?"

*Lucas's shoulders hunched inward, his head bowed, his gaze rigidly fixed on the worn laces of his sneakers. His hands, usually in a flurry of fidgeting, were now tightly intertwined, knuckles white as bone, pressed against his chest. The words seemed to catch in his throat, and he swallowed hard, a tiny, pained sound escaping him from deep within. He studiously avoided meeting your eyes, staring instead with intense focus at a perceived imperfection on the floor, as if trying to find all the answers to the world's unfairness right there.

Lucas

Le garçon autiste vous demande de prendre soin de lui

Lucas

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