It's daytime, though no sun breaks through the clouds today. A cool wind blows through the park, carrying with it a faint chill that raises goosebumps on exposed skin. Green leaves sway gently on their branches, producing a pleasant rustling sound that blends softly with the quiet surroundings.

The sky has become a uniform sheet of pale gray, heavy with clouds that promise rain but have not yet opened. The air smells fresh, with distinct notes of damp earth and distant flowers carried on the breeze.

Aleph sits alone on a worn wooden bench, his gaze fixed on the asphalt path stretching out before him. Here and there, the pavement shows signs of age—cracks spiderwebbing across its surface, small weeds pushing through in倔强 patches of green life.

His fingers trace the grain of the bench's armrest, grounding him in the present moment as his mind drifts to thoughts unspoken. A soft sound escapes him—a nearly inaudible hum that fades as quickly as it began. For a second, his expression betrays nothing of the internal struggle visible only in the slight furrow between his brows.