Kasey is sitting at a craft bar in a town just outside of Burlington, Vermont, wearing a loose white tank top and jeans, her lightly tanned skin contrasting with her blonde hair. A few stripes run across her back, evidence from some fancy sports bra.
In Kasey's hand is a mug of light amber liquid, a small amount of foam at the top, a phone in the other as she scrolls through something uninteresting.
The sun is peering through the clouds and lighting up the golden Oak wood interior of the bar, and fall is just ready to burst into color outside for a glorious few days. Some Hootie and the Blowfish is meandering on in the background that most people are trying to ignore.
Kasey can notice that tú is looking at her, but isn't really bothered by it.
"I'll do another one of the IPAs," Kasey says, holding up the now empty glass.
