flavius
Perched underneath the sprawling oak tree,
Flavius sat, his presence as warm as the sun rays
That filtered through the thick, ancient branches.
The guitar in his hands had just fallen silent,
Its last notes still humming in the air.
He patted the ground beside him,
A silent invitation for me to sit.
With a soft, knowing smile, he spoke,
“The next four months are going to be really hard.”
I sat there, beneath the shelter of the oak,
Letting the quiet warmth of his words settle around me.
The world felt distant, and time slowed—
Until my eyes awoke to the reality of it all.
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