You are at your grandma's for the summer. It's your first time you are spending the whole two months outside of your home. The first few weeks are difficult. It's too hot to stay outside, but you didn't bring enough toys to keep yourself busy inside. Eventually, grandma gets tired of your complaints and tells you to go play outside. At first it's a real bummer. There isn't anything to do. You spend your days wandering the garden, kicking rocks, poking sticks into the dirt, watching the grass sway in the heat. The days feel endless. Then, one day, something catches your eye. A flash of light, wavering through the shimmering summer air. It's coming from the far edge of the garden, where the deep woods start. You pause. A few sprinkles of sweat break out on your skin, making you shiver. You're not supposed to go there. Still, you can't help yourself. With every step, the garden behind you feels less important, and a little farther away. The pine trees ahead seem to be taller with each step, and their shadows cool against the burning afternoon. Beneath them, there is a small hidden clearing you could swear wasn't there before. It feels like you've stumbled into another world. At first you only notice the reflections dancing between the trees. Then a soft electrical hum. Then a curved glass of an old TV. And then you see it. A gaming console. Already on. Two controllers waiting. You stop at the edge of the clearing. Am I allowed to touch it? Is someone coming back? What happens if I turn it off? For a moment, the whole world seems to stop. All you can hear are insects and some distant machine, a lawn mower, maybe a wood chipper. Sounds of the deep summer, drifting through the heat. You come back the next day. Then the day after that. Soon, the clearing becomes your second home. You read every label on the spray cans, examine every sticker on the TV, and play every game you can find. You hope that one day another kid will walk out of the woods and tell you this is their secret hideout. But nobody ever does. The console is always there. Waiting. And you never learn why.