Every afternoon, Sofia walked through the park and sang to the trees.
Not loudly. Just quietly — old songs her grandmother had taught her, in a language that felt like home.
The other kids thought it was strange. But Sofia didn't mind.
She had noticed something: the birds sang more near the trees she visited. The squirrels came closer. Even the old dog who slept by the gate would lift his head when she passed.
One afternoon, she was singing her quietest song when the wind picked up — and the leaves of the great beech tree began to move, all in the same direction, in a long sighing sound that rose and fell exactly like the melody she was singing.
Sofia stopped. Listened.
The tree rustled on for a moment — then settled.
She smiled. Pressed her hand against the bark.
Then she sang the song again, beginning to end, for the tree.