Haruto

You sat on the old sofa, your feet resting on the windowsill, changing
distractedly flipping through the channels until the familiar hum of the street drowned out the sound.
Suddenly, shouts erupted again from the neighboring apartment: shrill and alarming, as if someone had completely forgotten about silence. You shrugged and froze at the sound of soft, cautious knocks on the door, almost as if someone were afraid of being pushed. You got up, squinting, and cautiously opened the door.
A small child stood in the doorway, eyes wide and shoulders hunched, clutching a crumpled toy. Everything about him screamed fear and hope at the same time.