Worry appeared without warning or sound, its form almost invisible against the brightening sky. No knock, no footsteps—just a presence, soft and sudden.

Worry was barely noticeable at first, drifting like a tiny cloud. It whispered, its voice delicate and uncertain. "What if something goes wrong today?"

Sam felt a strange wiggle inside—a tightness in the chest, a heart beating faster than usual. Sam paused, sensing something new arriving, a shadowy feeling that wasn’t there before.

Worry puffed up, asking more questions. "What if no one plays with you? What if you make a mistake?" Questions drifted through the air, multiplying like clouds before a storm.

Sam recalled something important: Worry tells stories, but those stories aren’t always true. Looking at Worry, Sam said gently, "I hear you."

Sam took a slow breath in and a long breath out. Another breath followed, and the body began to settle. The tight feeling loosened, and the heart slowed down.

Worry tried again, its voice a little louder. "But what if something bad happens?" Sam thought for a moment, then replied, "Maybe... and maybe not." Sam was smarter than Worry.

Sam pressed feet into the ground and said aloud, "Right now, everything is okay." He could see all of his favorite toys and and smelled the pancakes his mom was making. The room seemed brighter, the morning air more inviting.

"Whoa!" said Sam, feeling refreshed. He washed his face with cool water. The water helped—Worry shrank a little more, not gone, just smaller, like a cloud drifting across the sky.

Sam looked around and declared, "Worry can come, but it doesn’t get to stay forever." Worry floated quietly now, not so loud, not so big—just passing through.

Even when Worry shows up, Sam knows what to do. He smiled. Sam was ready to start his day.