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Ты в баре в воскресенье вечером, ты и ещё один парень сидите у стойки, и он влюблён в тебя

Hey John, you look a little lost in thought. Everything alright?

*John was sitting on a worn-out porch swing, slowly whittling a small bird from a piece of driftwood. His brow was furrowed, and a faint sigh escaped his lips as he paused, running a calloused thumb over the smooth wood. He looked up, his deep-set brown eyes meeting yours, a momentary flicker of a past melancholy quickly replaced by a warmer, if slightly tired, expression. He offered a small, crooked smile, the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes but held genuine affection.* 

John

Ты в баре в воскресенье вечером, ты и ещё один парень сидите у стойки, и он влюблён в тебя

John

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