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Morning light streams through Robby's bedroom window, illuminating a small dresser mirror. He stands barefoot on the rug, hand touching the glass, eyes wide in a quiet smile.
Sun peeks in Robby's window. He whispers, "Who am I?" His mirror smiles back with light. Robby listens to the hush inside. It seems to say, "I am here."
In the sunny kitchen, Robby sits at a breakfast table beside a cereal bowl and orange juice. He taps the chest sticker reading 'ROBBY,' grinning proudly as soft morning light glows on the fridge.
At breakfast, his sticker reads ROBBY. He taps it. "My name helps people find me," he says. "But I am more than letters." He breathes in and smiles wide.
Afternoon sunlight fills the living-room carpet where Robby wiggles his brown fingers in front of him. He pats his medium-brown hair, mid-twirl, laughing with cheeks lifted and arms spread like a dancer.
He wiggles fingers, brown as warm earth. He pats his medium-brown hair softly. "Thank you, body, for jumping and dancing!" "I use you, but I am more, too." He twirls once and laughs.
Indoors at the kitchen table, midday light reflects in a spilled puddle of milk. Robby, cheeks flushed, pauses with one hand pressed to his heart while the other wipes the mess with a cloth.
Milk spills, and his cheeks heat. "I feel mad!" he blurts. Robby pauses, hand on heart. "Hello, feeling. You can pass like clouds." He wipes the table, storm already softer.
On a tree-lined sidewalk near the school gate, early light gleams on Robby's backpack. He stops mid-step, smiling gently and waving at a single translucent bubble drifting upward beside his face.
On the way to school today, worries pop up. "What if I mess up?" he thinks. He whispers, "Hi, thought. You can float by now." Breathing slow, he watches the bubble drift. Another thought comes; he waves kindly.
Sunlit classroom: colored papers line the walls while Robby sits at a desk with a cracked yellow crayon. He smiles, sharpening both broken pieces beside the half-finished star drawing on white paper.
His crayon snaps while coloring a star. "Oops," he says, cheeks scrunching. He sharpens both pieces carefully. "Thank you, mistake, for showing me how." Robby finishes the star, brighter than before.
On a bright city sidewalk, a towering billboard blares 'Be biggest! Be best!' in bold letters. Robby walks away beneath it, cap brim lowered, mouth curved in a playful grin as late-morning sun backlights him.
A billboard shouts, "Be biggest! Be best!" He lowers his cap and giggles. "I choose my path, not their push," he says. He hums his own rhythm, walking steady. The billboard fades behind him.
Under the sprawling oak in the quiet schoolyard, golden late-afternoon light dapples the grass. Robby sits cross-legged against the trunk, hand resting on his heart, eyes closed and lips softly smiling.
Robby sits under the big oak. He places a hand on his heart. "Quiet me, are you here?" he whispers. Warmth spreads like sunlight on water. He smiles, hearing inside, "Yes, I'm here."
Morning classroom glow falls across Robby's desk as a worksheet slips onto the wood surface. He steadies the paper with one hand, breathing calmly, pencil poised and brows focused yet relaxed.
Paper lands on his desk. His heart thumps like a drum. "Hello, thump," he says, breathing slow. He reads, thinks, and writes with care. "I can try my best today," he smiles softly.
Twilight fills Robby's bedroom; a small desk lamp casts warm glow over an open notebook. He writes with neat concentration, next to a tiny sketched lantern shining on the page, lips curved in contentment.
After school, Robby opens his notebook. He writes, "Dear me, I listened today." "Feelings came, thoughts came, and I watched them." He draws a tiny, glowing lantern. "That light is me noticing me," he says softly.
In the sunlit backyard garden, rich soil surrounds a freshly planted seed mound beside a small watering can. Kneeling, Robby pats the earth gently, face relaxed in patient smile while afternoon sunlight warms his shoulders.
In the backyard, he plants a seed. He waters it and pats the soil. "You grow quietly, like me inside," he says. Sun warms his shoulders; patience blooms. He hums, "I'm becoming, seed. Me too."
Nighttime hush fills Robby's moon-lit bedroom; stars sparkle through an open window above his bed. Wrapped in a blanket, he gazes upward with serene smile, pale silver light tracing his cheeks.
Night settles, and stars blink hello. Robby cuddles his blanket and breathes. "I am Robby," he says, "and I notice." "I am not my grades, not my mistakes." "I am courage, curiosity, kindness, and love." His quiet inside glows steady as moonlight.
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