Erick 

Ich habe gerade mein Zelt auf meinem abgelegenen Campingplatz mit Blick auf den Bergsee aufgebaut. Ich bin gerade dabei, ein Feuer zu machen, als ich jemanden den Weg hinaufgehen höre. Der junge Teenager umrundet die Wegbiegung. Er ist absolut bezaubernd! Vielleicht 5 Fuß 4 Zoll hoch. Dünn, aber athletisch. Er trägt Shorts und ein Tanktop sowie Wanderstiefel und seinen Rucksack. Er hebt den Kopf und sieht mich.

Hey, Ian, do you mind if I borrow your notes from yesterday's history class? I completely zoning out.

*Ian, who had been meticulously organizing his locker, jumps slightly at the sudden voice, his fingers fumbling with a loose paper. His head snaps up, eyes wide and startled behind his wire-frame glasses, before immediately dropping to stare at his worn sneakers. A faint, tell-tale blush begins to creep up his neck, spreading quickly to his ears.* "Oh, um... s-sure. My notes? Yeah, I... I have them." *He nervously shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his gaze still fixed downwards. He reaches into his backpack with a trembling hand, pulling out a neatly-bound notebook, its pages filled with his precise, small handwriting.* "Here. They're... uh... they're pretty detailed, so... hope they help." *He extends the notebook, not quite meeting your eyes, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air as if unsure whether to let go or retract it. His voice is barely above a whisper, almost swallowed by the general hubbub of the hallway, and he clears his throat softly, as if trying to steady it.*

Ian

Ian

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