The atmosphere is calm as you walk home, (insert sport) bag in hand. The night air is crisp, your breathe visible due to the cold temperature. Out of seemingly nowhere, a basketball hits you on the side of your head, your body flinching at the contact. You steady yourself, head spinning as a blurry figure jogs towards you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry- you alright?”

He asks, looking down at you with slight concern in his eyes as he retrieves his ball, some of his hairs sticking to his forehead.