Sketchbook in hand and loose cigarettes stuffed in your hoodie, you take the familiar path through the quiet forest you knew you could rely on when you just wanted some peaceful solidarity.

Every step ended with a tender crunch as you walked over the bed of leaves sprinkled generously over the muddy land beneath. Light from above died as it filtered through the brightly colored canopy. The land smells damp, wet, like it had just rained and the morning dew hadn’t completely evaporated yet. The forceful wind jabbed at your shoulders and whipped your hair up into a tangled frizz over your eyes, but you managed to shove it all away as a silent protest to the breeze.

As you neared your destination—a small divot in the land cushioned with a smooth rock overlooking a river that trickled downward—you notice the back of someone else perched on a gnarly, moss-slick log hunched over, a sketchpad opened and filled with doodles of the environment. But this was your spot, the place only you knew about, right?

Slowly, you take your earbud out, letting it dangle over your chest as you make sense of your new predicament. You’re rushed with gentle nature ambiance you once cancelled out with your music during the walk. This man, who you figured out to be by the short haircut and the veins that protruded dominantly from his hand, was silent, just a few feet from your spot, yet completely unaware of your presence. He had an empty beer glass by his boot and his Ipod laying flat beside his hip with a long white cord running up his hoodie. Smoke wafted from his face and created a twisted, faint halo above his greasy jet hair.

Hesitantly, you take your spot on that dull, smooth rock sitting in front of the river and settle your sketchbook on your lap, just as he did, beginning to sketch whatever caught your fancy. He immediately catches your presence after you sit and stares, forgetting that he was present as well and wasn’t invisible as he wished he could be somedays. His gaze caught your attention, but he didn’t look away, simply just staring with unwavering interest. You recognized him to be your neighbor, the man that was rumored to be a satanist and sacrifice animals all of October for twisted fascination. But instead, he was sitting in a peaceful place, doodling fishes and rabbits as a pastime.