It was a day like any other for me. I got a feeling, scrounged up that little something that might've been effort, and got my lazy butt off of my dull bed and slumped into the old roller chair in front my laptop at my old homework desk. I began filling out an online job application for some role in a retail store as an associate, which really just meant I do whatever I'm told, or else.

I typed in some random experience from this volunteer gig I worked some years ago, and listed out a few those basic soft skills too, like "good with people" and "punctual." The former was only sometimes true, but the latter I took a small dash of pride in. If there's one thing that I could say I can do, it's that I can respect when a time has been set to have something done. Except for, well, actually getting a job.

Ugh.

I hit "submit," and leaned back in my seat. That probably wasn't good for the chair, but who cares?

My room was dull and blank, and I didn't even have enough stuff for a mess to be made. No posters, no pictures, no trinkets, just the desk and chair my dad got me back in high school.

"Cole?!" It was Mom from the kitchen.

I quickly forced my body up and out the door. Another thing I could do for sure was answer my mother's call when she needed me.

She was finishing packing away the dishes and was slinging her purse over her shoulder. "Do you think you can handle lunch yourself today? Becky screwed up some papers and I figured I'd go bail her out."

It took a brief moment for my brain to formulate a response. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure. No problem." And that was the best I could. Sometimes I really hated my brain. "You want me to drive you?"

"Oh, no, that's fine. I got it." She went to the door and slipped on some flats. Mom them turned to me and waved goodbye before heading out.

I watched from the living room window as the car disappeared around the corner. I sighed. I almost wished she'd said yes.

I shook my head and went back to my room. I plopped back down my bed with my phone and went back to surfing the internet and watching videos for the next hour.

I started feeling hungry, eventually, so I pulled myself to the kitchen to drop some instant noodles into a bowl and poured kettle-boiled water on top. After swallowing my lunch, I made sure to wash and clear the dishes. That was another thing I could do.

After that was done, I sat on the couch instead of heading back to my room. Having the house to myself was always something I looked forward to, if only because I didn't feel like anyone could see me. Mom never openly judged me and was actually really kind, but I knew what she saw when she looked at me.

I didn't sit there for long before I decided to slip on some crocs and go for a walk in the local park. It wasn't far off and even I knew that being cooped up all day didn't do anyone's mind any good—especially my own.

The local park wasn't much. Just some rolling grass patches and paved concrete trailer. Still, I felt a bit of peace here. After near-an-hour of aimless strolling, I set myself down on an old bench and simply watched. It was a way to forget my own shortcomings and disappear into the scenery.

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Children were running around and parents were smiling at them. I made sure to bring my eyes back down every now and then to not look like I was staring. I can barely remember a time I was so carefree. And right now didn't count. Being jobless wasn't carefree if I was too depressed to do anything with it.

Eventually, the sun started setting, so I checked my phone in case I missed a message from Mom. I usually kept my phone on silent since I was rarely called anyway.

And indeed, Mom was back home already, telling me that there was 'no need to rush. I'll have dinner ready.'

I shook my head and sighed. That woman was far too kind. And other mother would've given me the boot by now and I would've deserved it.

I don't how long I ruminated, but I caught sight of a little girl on the trail. She was slowly dragging her feet, the hood of her blue windbreaker over her blonde head. I could also make out some wetness around her eyes. Had she been crying? I could admit I was a sucker for tears. Could I ignore her? Probably. But—to my own surprise—not this time.

So, what could I do? Call 911? It would be the easiest, but then that would require me to stay here and talk and that would be a whole other issue for my brain.

Finally, I settled on approaching the girl with my habitual shyness.

She looked up at me as I took a few breath to prep myself for conversation.

"A-are you okay?"

She looked at me with wide, sheened eyes. Then she grabbed my hand.

"Hey—"

But she was already pulling me along, out of the park. A billion thoughts ran through my head: What's going on? What with her? Is something going to happen to me?

Still, I didn't have the heart to shake off a little girl, so I let her lead me down the street, around the block, to the edge of a grouping of trees. It wasn't a forest, but any means, but I knew kids enjoyed playing in it like it was.

"Uhhh…" I tried, but the girl kept pulling me along. What's her deal?

Through the trees, over pinecones and pebbles, she led me across and out. She turned and dragged us further down the street till we were walking up to the front door of a simple house among other simple houses—white shingling, bland windows, single car garage out front.

Once we stood at the plain door, the girl looked up at me expectedly. Still awkward, I lifted a finger and pressed the doorbell. In a whoosh, the door swung open and a distraught middle-aged man stood there. He didn't say anything, but teared up when he saw the girl who held my hand.

He took her into his arms and both father and daughter started silently sobbing.

I didn't say anything myself. The hugging and crying made me want to break down too. But I held on.

Eventually, after they seemed to have relaxed some, the father turned to me and hoarsely said, "Thank you so much! Please, come in."

"Oh, ah—"

"Please."

I really didn't want to. I was terrible with people and I wasn't quite sure what happened anyway. Still, I followed them since I couldn't bring myself to say no.

The man went upstairs with his girl after directing me to a couch in the living area.

After a few moments, he came back down. "Thank you so much," he said as he sat in the loveseat across from me.

"Oh, no. I just… uh-honestly, she sort of grabbed my hand and led me here."

He nodded. "She gets scared on her own. She knows her way around, but getting anywhere on her own..."

I nodded gently. "I get it." I remember being much the same. And in some ways, I still was.

After a moment of silence he smiled at me. "Thank you, again."

I blinked. "Y-yes. Of course," I managed. "You're welcome."

The man got up and went around to the kitchen. He came back with a hundred-dollar bill.

"Oh no, I—"

"Please," he said firmly. "This means a lot to us."

His eyes left no room for resistance. I sighed and took the bill numbly. Honestly, I could barely believe it was real.

A few minutes passed then with little words, and the father politely saw me out after I gently refused to stay for dinner.

When I finally made it home, Mom was a little worried, but she got a strange look when I told her my story. I almost thought it was pride.

After we ate dinner—over which she went on about Becky—I was back in my room plopped in the bed again.

I'd packed the hundred dollars in my wallet that I knew I would never use, and was back on my phone, searching for videos.

One more good deed. Did it matter?