Joshua stood by the wall, his face turned toward the cold surface while his head twisted slightly back. His large, round eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the corners of his lips drooping. The tears trembled in his eyes but refused to fall, making him look both pitiful and stubbornly defiant.
As soon as he heard footsteps approaching, he immediately turned back to face the wall, head lowered, sniffling nonstop as he wiped at his nose.
Henry saw Joshua's trembling shoulders and couldn't help feeling a pang of pity. By now, the boy's face had been washed clean, though beads of water still clung to his skin. Henry sighed softly and called out, "Joshua."
Joshua didn't respond, only scrubbed at his face even more frantically.
Henry felt a deep ache in his chest. He reached out to pull Joshua into his arms and spoke gently, "Joshua, don't cry."
Joshua continued to cover his face, sobbing quietly — his voice as soft as a kitten's mewl.
