Vivian looked out the window, her head rested on her arms. Rays of sunlight shone down on the streets and gave the neighborhood a bright, livened look. Trees were a more vivid shade of green, and the pond in her garden looked clear and crystalline. Several people were outside, enjoying the beautiful weather. She didn't want to miss out on it, so she put on her red and white cap, and headed out the door. Vivian stretched out her arms, and basked in the warmth that filled her being with renewed energy. A smile spread across her face. A few birds flew past Vivian, chirping delightfully. She looked at children and adults walk by, too engrossed in their conversations to notice their surroundings. One of the reasons why Vivian liked not being able to talk was that she had a heightened sense of observation. Sometimes, though, she imagined herself speaking, and longed for it to be a reality.

As Vivian continued to walk, she noticed a boy about her age standing underneath a tree. There was something different about him, but she couldn't figure out why. His hazel eyes met Vivian's dark brown ones. She neared him, and the boy stood there silently, his gaze turned to the grass beneath his feet. It wasn't long before Vivian realized why. He was mute as well. The boy pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, and wrote: "Hello, I'm Imogen. What's your name?" She read the paper, and wrote back: "I'm Vivian. It's a beautiful day out today." Imogen nodded as he read her response. He scribbled some more words down: "Yeah. I'm glad I can "talk" to you." He was lonely, Vivian noticed. The kind of loneliness she felt from time to time, when she believed that nobody understood her. She wrote back: "Me too. We could become good friends." Imogen smiled, and wrote: "I would like that. Well, I have to leave now. If you want to find me again, I'll be under this tree." She nodded, and as they parted ways, Vivian knew she has finally found someone who understood her.