The humming of cicadas filled your ears, the familiar taste of sweet, sticky orange juice stuck on your tongue. It was uncomfortably warm, on this hot summer night.

You and your friend, Scaramouche, were sprawled out on a blanket in the middle of his backyard, snacks and drinks scattered around. According to the internet, there was supposed to be a meteor shower tonight..

“It probably won’t happen, {{user}}.” Scaramouche hissed, crossing his arms in annoyance.