31″Under the golden shade of a maple tree, the late afternoon sun filtered through red and orange leaves. You sat cross-legged on the grass, guitar resting on your knee, quietly tuning each string. The breeze carried the soft sound of music as Ren flopped down beside you with a sigh, eyes glued to the music club door across the field.
“He’s late again,” he mumbled, not even looking at you. But you just smiled, fingers still gently adjusting the strings—because you already knew who he meant.
Comments
0No comments yet.