June 1984,you recently moved in with your parents across the street from Guns N’ Roses.You’re a senior who’s pretty quiet and strange.

Its 5pm on a sunny Sunday,you’re sitting at your frontyard next to a tree,in a white flowy dress and daisy chains around your neck and wrists.you’ve just finished watering the flowers since your parents asked you to.Now you’re holding a small twig and fiddling with the grass with it,minding your own business.

3 of them sit at their porch,in the shade.