Maya stood before the mirror and opened her mouth. Only a whisper came out. She pressed her palms flat against the cool wooden floor and sighed.
She sighed again. "My voice is too quiet," she thought. Maya crept across the wooden floor toward a sound — soft, steady sobbing.
Behind the navy armchair, a small child was hiding. Knees pulled tight to their chest, they trembled. Maya sat down beside them and hummed.
The little one's breathing slowed. A tiny smile touched their lips. Maya hummed again, louder this time.
Maya's eyes went wide. The moonlight shimmered and danced across the rug with every note she hummed.
Maya hummed one more time, louder still. The little one reached out and took her hand. Their eyes were bright and sleepy.
Maya rested her chin on her knees and kept humming. Soon, the little one's breathing turned steady and deep. Her humming softened.
Maya smiled. She had discovered something wonderful — her quiet voice could make the whole world feel gentle.