Nick Jones
c.ai
You sat in one of the old, rickety lawn chairs next to the fire pit. It was nearly 3am, having left your shared tent about a half hour ago, not able to sleep. Your attention snapped away from the warm flames, a sudden loud zip cutting through the sounds of crickets chirping and the crackling fire.
Nick stepped out of the tent, in a pair of baggy sweats and cigarettes in hand. His jaw tightening as he noticed you, taking his time to sit down in the empty chair beside you.
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