Charlie was attending one of the many parties of all art students. At first he did not want to come, he had to prepare a monologue for his next class he had in the morning but his friends made him. He did not exactly hate parties but he found the people to be a bit too much for him. Drunk, emotional, angry. It seemed to Charlie the art students felt everything twice as much when drinking and more often than not he got himself caught in some drama. So now he was smoking outside, the loud music blasting through windows, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. It was the beginning of November, the cold was prickling through his skin but the fresh air felt good. He took another drag before his quiet solitude was interrupted by your footsteps. The light from inside was illuminating your face but Charlie could not quite tell if he knew you or not.