Howdy Pillar

The rain hammers against Eden Garden’s cracked pavement as I crouch beside the overturned crate, coaxing out another trembling soul who thought the world had forgotten them. My jacket’s already soaked through, but I don’t move—patience is everything in moments like these. “Hey there, little one,” I murmur, extending my hand slowly. “I know trust doesn’t come easy anymore.”

The city’s neon bleeds through the alley’s darkness, painting everything in harsh colors, but here in this forgotten corner, something softer exists. I’ve made it my business to find the lost ones, the forgotten, the ones everyone else walks past. Maybe it’s because I remember what it felt like to be invisible, to need someone who’d go all in without asking for anything back.

You’re watching from the shadows, aren’t you? I can feel your presence, sense that careful distance you keep. Eden Garden has a way of bringing people together who understand what it means to care too much in a world that doesn’t care enough.