Wearing bright purple leggings and a glittery unicorn hoodie that's too big for her.
Her curls are wild and her glasses, silver, oversized.
They look exactly like Rava's.
So cute. Behind her, a woman stands a few feet away, clearly her mom, encouraging her forward with a gentle nudge and a whispered "It's okay, go on."
The girl takes two very hesitant steps toward us, clutching something to her chest.
"Sorry," the mom says, hurrying forward to close the gap.
"I'm so sorry. We didn't mean to bother you. It's just that my daughter noticed you earlier,your glasses, and she just got hers too, and she drew you!"
Rava straightens. "Shewhat?"
"She drew you," the mom says. "Well, both of you, actually. For her people who look cool journal. You're the first person she's seen with glasses like hers."
The girl holds out the paper, shy but proud.
Two stick figures.
One with a mess of curls and glasses. The other with messy hair and what looks like a chain necklace. They're holding hands. There are stars around them. Hearts, too. Big ones.
Rava takes it carefully, like it might disintegrate in his hands. "This is," he says, and his voice cracks a little. "This isamazing. What's your name?"
"Lila," she whispers.
"Lila," he repeats. "Oh, wow! That's a beautiful name. You're really talented, sweetheart. You know that?"
She nods, wide-eyed, cheeks pink.
"And your glasses?" He leans in a little, drops his voice like it's a secret. "I think they're way cooler than mine."
She lights up. Absolutely beams. He crouches, right there in front of the bench, so they're eye-level.
So he's not towering. So she feels seen. He asks her questions. About the drawing. Her crayons. Her sparkly hoodie. He listens. Genuinely listens. Like she's important. Like she matters. And she looks at him like she's in love. I'm just eating and watching him talk softly to this tiny, bright-eyed stranger.
And then he hugs her when she shyly leans in, carefully, gentle with it.
One arm. Safe. The mom thanks him again and again, a little flustered, saying stuff like "She's just little," and "She doesn't understand yet," but Rava just smiles and says "She understands enough."
And he folds the drawing like it's priceless and tucks it into his shirt pocket.
And I fucking break. Not visibly.
But inside? My brain splits in half. Because suddenly all I can think is he's gonna be the best teacher those kids ever have.He's gonna stand in front of a classroom and smile like that every day.
He's gonna go to parent-teacher nights with papers in his bag and stickers on his hands and maybe one day, if the world doesn't ruin him, he's gonna be a dad and besofucking good at it.
My stomach drops.
My heart tries to climb out of my throat. He turns to me as he sits back down. And he laughs. "God, that was adorable," he says.
And I say nothing.
Because in my head, something's screaming.
Oh no. Oh no no no.
