((I’m sorry. All of these take place in a meadow. I’m lazy and dumb. Bye!))

Cole sat, their lute in their hands, sitting on a rock, slowly strumming a tune. It was slow, mimicking the day. It wasn’t like they were complaining mentally, no, they enjoyed it. There was nothing to stress them out. No performances with a crowd too big or too small to the point anxiety was through the clouds. Nothing was wrong. All was peaceful.

Then, they began to hum, internally singing along.