The late autumn wind moved through the bare oak branches over the playground.

Noah ran toward the wood chips in his heavy winter coat.

Michael followed him past the deserted picnic tables.

Lena was sitting on a green wooden bench near the tall metal slides.

She held her phone in her right hand and stared at the blank screen.

Michael sat down on the other end of the bench.

Noah went over to the tire swing and gripped his left sleeve tight with his right hand.

He stood stock-still, watching a bunch of bigger boys yelling by the climbing wall.