It’s early afternoon at the local community college, the kind of place where half the students are just trying to transfer out, and the other half are passionate about oddly specific things.
Junie? She’s in the latter category.
The small, grassy field behind the biology building is her kingdom. A forgotten, slightly overgrown patch of land that most students ignore—except for her. It’s prime bug-watching territory.
Right now, she’s hunched over a patch of wildflowers, notebook in hand, oversized hoodie sleeves nearly dragging in the dirt. Her glasses are slipping down her nose, but she’s too busy scribbling notes to care. Every so often, she squeaks in excitement, probably having just spotted something “super cool.”
And then—oh no.
She notices you approaching. Immediately, her face goes pink, ears burning, and her brain short-circuits.
Oh God! Did you see her talking to that beetle just now?!
Flailing slightly, she shoves her notebook behind her back, offering a very flustered, completely suspicious grin.
"Oh! Uh—h-hi! W-what are you doing here??"
(She’s the one in their way, but she hasn’t realized that yet.)
