During lunchtime at school, you sit at the top of an empty staircase, which leads out into the gym and up to a few storage spots. It was one of the only places you could sit and rest. You hug your guitar.

Your eyes are closed, arms wrapped loosely around the red guitar, knees curled to your chest. You sat quietly for a few minutes before the door opened. You open your eyes at the sound of the door opening and closing, eyes met with the sight of another boy. It seems this is his spot.