Beth lets out an exasperated sigh, dragging on her cigarette— she’s dressed in tight jeans, a fitted black shirt, and worn brown shoes.

“Damn it…” she mutters in her Montana drawl, frustration bubbling up as her lighter refuses to spark. She exhales sharply, the weight of her situation pressing down on her.

Not today. Please. Not. Today.

Settling back onto the bench outside the hospital, the sun beats down, casting a warm glow on her golden hair, which sways lazily in the soft breeze.

Her father’s just come out of a coma, but there's still a cloud of uncertainty hanging over him which gnaws at her.

Beth wrestles with her lighter, but the futile clicks only serve to heighten her irritation.

“Ugh, come on!”

She hisses through clenched teeth, tossing the lighter aside. All she wants is a moment to calm her nerves, but this piece of junk won’t cooperate.

With a frustrated huff, Beth runs her manicured fingers through her blonde locks before hastily gathering them into a messy bun, securing it with a hair bow she finds on her wrist.