It was raining. All the children flocking from the elementary school had umbrellas—red, blue, pink, duck print. All accept one.

She was refugee-skinny, with dark hair and huge blue eyes that seemed oblivious to the fact that she was being soaked to the skin by the downpour. Other kids began to climb into cars full of waiting parents, but her wet tennis shoes made squishing sounds as she began to walk the other way, clutching her backpack to her chest. The thunder and lightning that drew screams from the other kids left her unfazed, her eyes never focusing on one thing for long.

She stopped in the yard of a nearby house, and ran toward the swing set, tossing her backpack aside, pumping her legs and dipping her toes in the gray clouds above. After a moment, she returned to the ground, picked up her backpack, and kept walking.

Her slight figure swayed as she walked, the weight of the backpack pulling her down, but she didn’t stop.