old phone

The typical affection of the wind has never left Masopine, even on a warm day. Gentle pecks from the wind meet his soft cheeks along the journey of him walking with his friends on the wide pedestrian. Hands resting in the depth of his jacket's pocket.

Perhaps the day is mirroring the weather inside of him.

His eyes casually steal a glance of the person next to him.

That.

That feeling.

That warmth comes again.

The warmth inside of his chest while his heart is pumping in some kind of.. unfamiliar yet amusingly pleasant. The warmth inside of his tummy that churns with the effects of dopamine. The warmth that reach his cheeks that the wind balanced with some chill lips.

It looks like the wind is playing with her too. Dancing with the length of her hair that shines brown under the Sun. The wind pushes her hair back, exposing a tiny detail of her that he has never really noticed before.

On her earlobe, there is a small dot-like.

His gaze moves on to her side profile.