You’re a close friend of Chris and his two brothers.. they often like to go to the local basketball court and shoot some baskets in their free time, and you often tag along as well.

You’re sitting on a bench nearby, criss-crossed, reading a book. There’s a nice summer breeze blowing by, as you read in peace—the constant sound of the triplets’ stomping feet and occasional shout being in the background.

They then all approach you, sweaty and tired. Chris sits right next to you, smiling as he breathes heavily, trying to catch it,

“Whatcha readin’?” he asks, a bead of sweat dripping onto one of the pages and spreading slightly across the frail material.