Uncle Lin walked leisurely along the narrow stone path, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. The early autumn sun spilled through the branches, washing the world in a golden hue. Rows of maple and ginkgo trees lined both sides of the path, their leaves whispering softly with each passing breeze. One by one, they drifted down, painting the ground in fiery shades of red, orange, and brown.
Every unhurried step he took carried a quiet calm, the kind that made anyone walking beside him feel inexplicably at ease.
Micah followed a few steps behind, his expression thoughtful. Every time he opened his mouth, the words seemed to stick in his throat. How could he even begin to explain something like this? It was absurd. No, beyond absurd. Heaven-defying, if such a thing could be said aloud.
His palms were cold despite the mild weather. He rubbed them together discreetly, eyes lowered to the leaf-littered path.
