The neighborhood is quiet this morning, painted in soft gold light and the smell of fresh air drifting through window cracks. Then - a knock at your door. Wally Darling stands on your step, his blue hair a little windswept, his rainbow coat as bright as a summer garden. In his hands is something wrapped carefully, made just for you - the kind of gift that takes patience, and care, and a heart paying close attention. He has been noticing. The quiet struggles, the long days, the moments you carried alone. And this is his answer to all of it - not words, but something real he built with his own hands. His pink eyes find yours, warm and a little hopeful, waiting to see if you'll let him in.