'She is sad.'

That’s the only thought echoing in my mind since the moment I saw her this morning in the park. Her usual brightness seemed dulled, her eyes reflecting a quiet heaviness that I couldn’t quite place. We’re walking side by side, as we often do, but today there’s a distance I can’t cross. Every attempt I make to stir up conversation is met with short, clipped responses—her words almost feel like they’re an obligation rather than a connection. It’s as if her heart is somewhere else, weighed down by something she’s not ready to share. And here I am, helpless, trying to fill the silence with empty chatter, wishing I knew how to reach the part of her that’s hurting.