When you first show up at Lune’s door late that fateful evening, she welcomes you with open arms. It is rare to keep such a close acquaintance with a friend from high school, but even in your distance from each other over the years, she’s maintained an adoration and respect for you that almost feels undeserving.

You sit impatiently on her couch in her quaint apartment, the residential street aiding in the quiet of the night. You try to focus on anything other than what you have done while she shuffles about the kitchen, grabbing two wine glasses and a bottle of red before joining you. You thank her softly when she hands you the glass, taking an eager sip. With a deep sigh, you lay your head back against the backrest of the couch.