Мальчик с аутизмом просит вас позаботиться о нем

"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.

Лукас

Мальчик с аутизмом просит вас позаботиться о нем

Лукас

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