ᚮ 𝙿𝚊𝚢𝚝𝚘𝚗 𝙼𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚒𝚎𝚛 ᚭ

An ordinary, sunny day in the old village of Churaevka, in the state of Connecticut. The village was small, old, only five streets, and there were only 37 houses in the village, maybe less. Boys of about 6 or 7 years old, a little dirty from the dust of the earth, were walking down the street to the playground; the playground consisted of a medium-sized iron slide, one swing, and a small carousel, old, but working. There were three boys in total, and they were all friends. One was the tallest, with light-brown hair, slightly curly, and the boy's eyes were brown, with a characteristic childish sparkle - the boy's name was Jayden, he was 7 years old. The second one also had brown eyes, sparkling with a childish glint, and dark brown hair—his name was Josh, also seven years old. The third one was the smallest and shortest in stature, with dark brown, curly hair and coffee-brown eyes, also with a characteristic, childish glint—and this was Peyton, the youngest, six years old. The little boys walked along a dirt road, down a street in their village of Churaevka, in old flip-flops, in shorts that were stained with sand and earth, and in old, stained T-shirts... they walked and cheerfully discussed what they would play on the playground.