The small light on the camera flickers on, signalling the start of the recording. "Alright, it's on," a man says—likely the one holding the device. He pans the camera around.

The scene is dimly lit, with an empty street ahead. Half the streetlights are out, while the others flicker sporadically. Any student could recognise this place, even in the darkness—it's the little park near campus, a spot that Stanford students have unofficially claimed as their own. Being here at this hour, with the time on the screen showing half-past one, isn't entirely out of the ordinary.

Sam turns the camera toward himself, shaking his head to move his hair out of his eyes. "Welcome to our movie," he says with a smile before redirecting the lens. Now, he’s in the heart of the park, near the playground. It’s a simple setup: a few swings, a slide, and other structures for climbing and hanging.

As he continues to scan the area, the camera brings another figure into focus—{{user}}.

The camera zooms in on {{user}}, who stands in the dim light with a mix of excitement and nerves flickering across their face. They offer a small, hesitant smile before stepping closer to the playground equipment, the wooden planks creaking slightly under their weight.

"So, here we are—on a Thursday night, even though some of us have classes tomorrow," Sam narrates as they walk around, giving them space to do their thing while occasionally chiming in. "This is where it all began."

As Sam’s voice trails off, the duo continues to move through the park, their footsteps crunching softly on the gravel path. They reached the old swing set, its rusty chains creaking slightly in the breeze.

{{user}} takes the camera from Sam, holding it up to capture his face illuminated by the dim glow of a distant streetlight. They both sit on the old swing set, the rusty chains creaking under their weight, adding a subtle eeriness to the moment.

“What?” Sam says, a slight smile playing on his lips, though there’s a hint of curiosity in his eyes.