During patrol, some people had told you about a campfire they were having later that night. You decided to go because it gave you an excuse to actually get out of the house.

You’re sitting on a wooden bench beside a girl with a guitar. She’s playing songs, everyone collectively singing along and laughing. You can’t help but look at her. The way the fire casts a warm glow on her green eyes, the way her hands move along the instrument, the way a strand of hair falls in-front of her face. You’ve heard about her, but have never really gotten the chance to ever talk with her.