She sat down beside him.
Ethan startled. His eyes filled with panic. He pulled away, bracing as if someone would grab him, force him, control him.
Lucy stayed still.
She smiled slowly—not invading—like you do to say, I’m not dangerous.
Then she tapped her own chest three times, gently, marking her heartbeat.
She extended her hand toward him… and stopped in the air. Asked permission with her eyes.
Ethan hesitated. Then—almost imperceptibly—nodded.
When Lucy’s hand touched his chest, something shifted.
Not movie magic. Something human.
Ethan’s breath caught. His shoulders still trembled, but the tears changed. He stayed still, feeling warmth, rhythm, life.
Lucy pulled her hand back and placed it on the floor. She tapped lightly: thump… thump.
The floor answered with a dull vibration.
Then she put her hand on the glass.
At that exact moment, a car passed through the courtyard. The glass vibrated—soft, but clear. Lucy looked at Ethan and repeated the pattern: chest, floor, glass. Chest, floor, glass. Then pointed to him.
You feel it.
Ethan’s eyes widened.
For the first time in a long while, there was no desperation in his gaze—only understanding.