In the late afternoon, under a withering willow, sat a girl and a guitar. She played softly and hummed such a gentle melody into the buzzing early evening air— harmonizing with the cicadas that remained burrowed deep into the trees. Her lips parted intricately with each chord she progressed. And under a different tree was a different girl, so entranced, watching this being, completely and entirely unknown to her, strumming each string with such delicacy only a musician could hold. She was beautiful, the girl playing the guitar, with short brunette hair and lovely brown eyes that looked like the red embers of a burning fire if they hit the sun just right. They were kindred spirits, the two girls, twin flames. One moved, and the other did. They weren’t meant to speak, not to engage in simple conversation— No, they were meant to catch only a glimpse of the other, through a tree, so withered away, and destined never to meet in any other stay.