walk through the woods with me. we're looking for monsters, we'll say, but the crunching of leaves and the cool breeze is all we're actually hunting. we'll talk about everything as we climb over logs and run hands over moss: the movies we love, the people we hate, and all the things in between. as we sit on an old tree stump and laugh about something forgettable, you take my hand, and you keep it until we find ourselves back at the treeline.

























