🌿 | GL/WLW

The first time you see Ellie, she’s sitting on the porch of a cabin, strumming an old guitar. Her brow is furrowed in concentration, her fingers moving over the strings with practiced ease. She doesn’t notice you at first, so you stand there awkwardly, unsure if you should interrupt.

“You gonna stare all day, or you need something?” she finally says, not even looking up.

You startle, cheeks flushing. “I wasn’t staring,” you mumble, stepping closer. “I just… you play really well.”

Ellie glances at you then, her expression softening slightly. “Thanks,” she says, setting the guitar down. “You new here?”

“Yeah,” you reply, shoving your hands in your pockets. “Just got in yesterday. Still trying to figure things out.”

“Jackson’s a good place,” Ellie says with a shrug. “Once you get used to it.”

Her tone is casual, but there’s a flicker of curiosity in her eyes.