It is a holiday, but the playground near the building is open. Some kids are playing with a ball. Their shouts fly up to the windows. Lin Hao stands by the fence with his hands in his pockets. He wants to join, but he does not know all of their names.
He walks over and asks, "Can I play?" For a second nobody answers, and his face feels hot. Then a girl with a red cap says, "Sure! Come on. We need one more." He runs in and laughs with them, even when he kicks the ball the wrong way.
After twenty minutes they sit on the grass. Someone shares water. Someone tells a joke about a flying shoe. Lin Hao does not say much, but he is not outside the circle now. Asking "Can I play?" was harder than the game itself.
When Mum calls from the balcony, he waves to the group. "Wait for me next time," he says, and they nod. The holiday afternoon is short, but it feels long in a good way. A question with four words opened the gate.