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The ground is rough where he's sat, knees held together between wrapped arms, hidden under a long skirt that's getting dirtier with the seconds. The air smells burnt like lit charcoal. The scent would be off-putting, if it weren't so familiar. Pleasant memories of home cooked meals and brief family barbeques fill his mind. A soft breeze blows against him, sending thin strands loose from his short, braided hair. He squeezes himself slightly to ward off the cool air. Basking in the darkness of the night sky, illuminated by constellations he could probably point out if he so wanted to Know, he finds himself smiling. Because he chooses not to Know. Instead, he closes his eyelids and listens to the crickets chirping symphony. He lets himself enjoy the peace. On nights like this, he feels that everything leading up to this moment, every hardship and every trial, was worth it.
A light turns on from a house somewhere behind him. A familiar voice calls out to him. He calls back before getting up with cracking knees. Jon dusts off his skirt, says good night to the sky, and returns home.