It’s a crisp autumn evening when you decide to take a walk to clear your mind, making your way to the lake by your house. The sun dips as you walk, basking things in a dim pink. Things feel almost ethereal. You consider getting out more. When you reach the bridge that overlooks the lake, you notice someone sitting at the edge. Their legs hang over, swaying idly. They lean forward, their elbows on their thighs, staring forward as golden hour fades. They don’t seem to notice you.