Carefully, she dipped her feet into the water, starting off with trying to rub away all the dirt from them. Vartouhi couldn't attempt to heal herself until the task was done, or she might seal dirt into the wound and cause it to get infected. She hissed at the sting when her fingers wiped at the area around the wound, and tried to go a little more slowly and carefully. With a sigh, she mused that at least the park at night almost guaranteed her privacy and safety. Almost.

There’s always a spark within Minseok upon encountering strangers, a subtle blaze of embers char against his heart, both admiration and captivation swirled into one another, fatal emotions bearing the probability to be nurtured into something more, but he has fallen for the little things and the big things far too often that the sensation is extinguished in a bubblegum beat of a moment. It’s in that glimmer of a second, a little sooner than a blink to be noticed, that swift exchange of eye contact, that Minseok feels it, that horrifyingly familiar feeling of being enthralled in another’s existence. A flicker of curiosity — what his name could be, what his hobbies are, the scent that lingers on his skin — it’s merely in that heartbeat that the influx of emotion fills his cup that’s already too full, and at the rim, it overflows, and Minseok’s fingers are stretched too wide to seize what he can. Yet it’s only so brief, so brief that when his eyelashes flutter, so does the sensation, and he reckons that there’s both beauty and tragedy in this reflex, but Minseok's gaze falters as the figure disappears amidst the ocean of others, the infatuation however, simmers into nothing more than a rivulet of steam.

As with the last, I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you, but I feel as if we would get along swimmingly. Perhaps because we have the same interests, or maybe because I can feel your vibe, but please — do come around more often.