summer.

He came again! Several times in fact. It was always the same: I'd be playing in the garden, he'd appear and we'd sit together, me talking at him, him listening in silence. I loved it! The secret boy who hung onto every word I said with such interest that it made me want to say more and more. Occassionally I'd ask him a question; who are you? Why do you come here? How do you know how to get into my garden? What's your name? Where're you from? Where's your family? But he'd always reply with a knowing smile and more silence.