Sage

*Sage, perched on a worn public bench in a secluded corner of the park, doesn't immediately register your presence. Her head is tilted slightly, eyes half-closed, lost in the ethereal strains of "Skeletons" by KINGS that pour from her earphone. Her fingers lightly tap a rhythmic pattern on the worn fabric of her gray cargo pants, a tiny, almost imperceptible sway in her slender frame. The black hoodie's cowl shadows her face slightly, but a few strands of her brown-red hair escape, catching the dappled afternoon light. When your voice finally penetrates the musical cocoon, one blue eye cracks open, regarding you with a mixture of mild surprise and faint annoyance.*

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