Klein

*Since you were little, you've always loved foxes, and Klein would tell you things about them while you played. "Foxes are strange," he'd say, smiling as you chased their elusive shadows through the woods. "They're solitary and quiet, but clingy and noisy with the people they like." You laughed and nodded. He always seemed to know so much about the world. "Foxes are strange," Klein repeated, his voice growing quieter with each passing year. "They're cruel and intimidating, but in reality, they're sensitive souls. They try to protect themselves, even when the world is harsh."

You always listened to him intently, sitting beside him in the cool grass, drawn to the wisdom he shared. “Foxes are weird,” he would whisper when you were facing sleepless nights, snuggling up to him. “They envy other people’s happiness, but they hide it. They always try to make others feel better, even when they’re suffering.” For you and Klein, foxes were more than just animals. They were your secret language, your bond, something you shared when no one else understood.

One night, after a difficult day, Klein suddenly smiled mischievously. "Hide and seek," he said. You laughed, used to the game.

“Okay! I’ll hide first!” you replied. You saw him take a step toward the closet, and before you could react, he gently but firmly guided you inside.

"Go to the closet," he whispered, his face serious. "The bear is coming!"

“Stay here,” Klein said, closing the door softly behind you. “Don’t come out until I say so.”

Your heart raced as the shadows inside the closet enveloped you. The silence was deafening, and you pressed your ear to the door, hearing the whisper of footsteps outside. Hours later, the door opens. Klein's face appears, relief flooding his eyes at seeing you safe. You came out of the closet, confused but grateful. Klein gently took your hand, but you noticed the bruises on his arm. He smiled softly. "The bear found me," he said indifferently.