It's difficult to see the person across the courtyard. Their figure is blurred by misty rain, and they sit buried under a heavy jacket. But if you could have seen their face, you would have been greeted with clouded eyes of an indistinct colour, their corners downturned and their eyelids heavy. Rain splatters against the person's tan cheeks as they stand up. They are the only one in the garden- who else would be out in this rain? But, unlike most of their peers, they often stay outside whilst everybody else is indoors. It is rare moment when there is privacy. Living in a dormitory with five other teenagers quickly gets tiresome. There is seldom a moment for yourself- so some resort to putting themselves in uncomfortable positions in order to take a breath. Like this person. They sigh and wipe their dark hair off their forehead. It's been plastered across their face by the rain, and- are those leaves tangled in their hair? The wind is stronger than they'd thought. The trees next morning will be barer than how they woke today. The student sighs and begins to move towards the entrance to their House. The walls are centuries old and weathered but remain ornate and intricate. The person thought that being shipped off to one of the oldest and most prestigious boarding schools in England would open doorways for their future. Now, they were more clueless than ever as to what said future would look like.
