On an especially warm August morning, a sky more white than blue made it nearly impossible to open one’s eyes completely. The asphalt burned, radiating a suffocating vapor that conjured mirages. Walking through the streets was, without a doubt, an act of madness. Not a single branch stirred, and the oppressive dryness in the air amplified the sensation of suffocation.

  In the middle of a park, next to the swings, a green-eyed boy squatted, observing what seemed to be a locust, possibly brought by the warm African winds.

  Distractedly, he touched its antennas, and the shy locust carefully cleaned them with its front legs. Occasionally, the boy glanced aside, murmuring something, then returned his gaze to the insect, which stayed calmly beneath his shadow, unmoving. It appeared as though he communicated with the insect without moving his lips. They spoke silently, alone, sharing a quiet communion beneath the scorching sun, an invisible dialogue.

  Suddenly, a sickening crunch startled the boy. White sneakers intruded upon the tranquil scene, crushing the insect right before his stunned eyes.

  He looked up and saw three children in fresh clothes, clearly having just come from Sunday mass, smiling maliciously at him. The one in the middle, the shortest, who had crushed the locust, seemed to be the leader. His voice was high-pitched and sharp. The one to the right was the tallest, wearing ugly black orthopedic boots, his face resembling that of an eighty-year-old man. The one on the left, chubbier than the others, looked perpetually sad and stood two steps behind.

  - This is the kid I told you about, -the leader said, revealing his crooked teeth full of braces.- Look closely: he's dumb.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  The boy lowered his head again, fixing his gaze on the white sneakers where the insect's remains were wedged into the patterns on the soles, crunching with each step.

  - Were you talking to a bug? -the leader shouted. “You don't talk to bugs, idiot; you squash them.

  - Why won’t you look at us, kid? -the tallest asked, his smile twisting like the grimace of a toothless old man.

  - Yes, look at us, -the leader interjected again.- Don’t just stare at the ground like an idiot. We’re talking to you.

  The boy remained static, unmoving, eyes still fixed on the same spot.

  - I said look at us! -And this time, the leader shoved him hard onto the ground.

  The boy stayed motionless, curled up, his eyes still on the dead insect.

  - Leave him alone, can’t you see he’s not okay? -the chubby one cried out anxiously.

  A kick from the leader struck the boy’s ribs, eliciting only the slightest groan.

  - You see what I told you? He doesn't move. Doesn’t cry or fight back. You can hit him all you want. He won't do anything.

  Amid laughter and shouting, a storm of blows rained down upon the motionless boy, who simply curled up tighter, like a pill bug.

  Finally, the shouting and beating stopped. Silence returned to the park. The boy waited a moment before cautiously raising his head. The other children were gone. He turned again to the crumpled remains of what had once been an insect. He reached out with his small hands, touching the fragments, as if trying to put it back together.

  Suddenly, footsteps broke the silence again. Another child appeared, wearing different clothes—a long tunic or shirt that seemed to float, moving gently even without a breeze. With each movement, the iridescent fabric shifted colors under the sun.

  - You’re on the ground again. Why are you so bruised? -the new arrival asked, kneeling to get closer.

  - The other kids did it, -he whispered, not meeting his eyes.

  - You always speak so quietly. I told you, I can’t see them.

  The boy stood, brushing dirt from his clothes and wiping off the footprints. Then, briefly looking into the eyes of the newcomer, he said softly:

  - Well, they can't see you either.