1967

You and Ryan were sitting under a tree. He had an acoustic guitar in his arms, and was generally just playing soft, peaceful songs. People were scattered everywhere. It was a protest against the Vietnam war. Giant posters reading messages of peace and love scattered around, people in blatant daylight passing joints and dancing to music being blasted on radios. And nobody was rioting. It was just happy.

You just kept looking around, as you sat next to him. It was nice. Beautiful even. To both you and Ryan's hippie hearts. He smiled at you slightly as his fingers skillfully plucked strings.

"Admiring the crowd?"