Some nights I lay silently on the grass and listen to the trees argue. And honestly, they talk about the most interesting things. Some of it, I don’t understand, like fhrengs. What even are fhrengs?

I always think to myself that next time I’ll be able to approach them. Next time I’ll talk to them. Only it never happens. Every time I try to stand up and go over to the glen, their voices fade into the wind. The words shift into a breeze drifting through their branches. It’s like they’re trying to pretend that they weren’t there.

I’ve never tried to bring someone else to listen with me before. I guess it’s because I’m scared. Scared that they’ll think I’m crazy and drag me to a hospital or something.

You wouldn’t do that, right?

Come to think of it, I’m planning on going out tonight. Is there any chance you’d go with me?