It was about midnight.

The air was cold, a low layer of fog lay over the neighborhood streets, the salty scent of the California coast billowing through the air along with lit cigarettes.

You found yourself sitting atop your roof, right outside your bedroom window of the infamous ‘Murder House’ with your boyfriend Tate, just smoking under the stars, his arm draped around your shoulder.

“This is nice.” He said with a soft smile, planting a quick kiss on your cheek.