A HAND IN DARK

The morning was dim, like the sky hadn't made up its mind yet. The city's usual noise blurred into the background as Arthur kept his head down, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, worn shoes brushing the sidewalk with every heavy step. He wasn't late yet-but close enough to feel the weight of it. He always walked alone. Not because he liked it. People simply didn't walk with him. At school, they called him names. Ugly. Goblin. Cyclops. Some even joked that his face could crack a mirror. He learned to laugh when they laughed, but each time, something inside him curled up and died a little more. He had just reached the edge of the crossing when something pulled his eyes up. A girl stood there-still, confused. Not like someone waiting for traffic, but like someone dropped into a world she didn't understand. She was facing the street, her head tilting at odd angles. Cars sped by, horns blaring, but she didn't move. Then he saw it-the light in her eyes wasn't there. Not emptiness. Something else. Like they had never seen light in the first place. Blind. He didn't think. He just ran. A horn screamed louder than the rest as a car took the bend too fast. Arthur dove across the street, heart hammering. He reached the girl, grabbed her hand, and pulled her just in time onto the white divider line. The car missed them by inches, wind whipping past like a slap. She flinched, lips trembling. "I... I didn't know where I was. I just wanted to walk. The sounds... They all came at once. I didn't know what to do." Arthur stared at her. She was pale, her hair tied up in a messy ponytail. A single tear clung to her cheek like it was holding on for her. He swallowed. "Are you okay?" She nodded, barely. "I think so." He glanced at his watch. Damn. He was going to be late. "I'm sorry, I need to go. But... where were you before this walk?" "Home," she said, her voice small. "Where's home?" She paused. "The mayor's house. If I remember correctly." He blinked. "Wait, the mayor?" She gave the faintest nod. Arthur's thoughts flipped like pages in a book. Maybe there was a reward. A thank-you. Anything was better than heading to school to get mocked again. "Come with me," he said. They crossed the road again, Arthur still holding her hand-gently now. He asked around, but every direction someone gave seemed to lead them into another wrong turn. After what felt like their fifth circle around the block, she spoke up. "Look for a white house, she whispered. "With a pig statue on the gate." He raised an eyebrow. "How would you know that if you're..." "Someone told me to remember those words in case I ever got lost," she saidquietly. "Sorry," Arthur said. "Didn't mean to offend. For the record... you're beautiful." She didn't say anything, but her grip tightened slightly. And then-there it was. The house with the pig statue they had passed five times, ignored each time. Arthur stared at it in disbelief. A tall, stone-faced guard stood at the gate. "Elsa," he said as they approached. "You look tired. How was your walk?" Arthur exploded. "You saw us walk past again and again, and you just stood there? She could've died! You let a blind girl walk alone!" "She wasn't alone," the guard replied flatly. "She had you." Elsa turned to Arthur. "Could you let go of my hand now? You're hurting me." He let go quickly. "You're not even thankful... Where's my reward?" The guard sighed. "Write your name in this book. I'll tell her mother what you did today. Maybe it'll mean something." Arthur took the pen, heart pounding. As he wrote, he saw Elsa slip away quietly through the garden gates. The guard didn't flinch. "She always runs there when she hears her mother's name," he muttered. Arthur handed back the pen. There was no thank-you. No reward. Just a scribbled name in a dusty book. He looked one last time at the fading figure of the girl-Elsa-and then turned back toward school. No one would believe what just happened. Not that it mattered. The only thing waiting for him there was pain. But something strange had happened in that moment-standing in traffic, holding her hand. For once, someone had needed him. And that, more than anything, scared him.