You and Hanna were hanging out at her house, casually watching TV. Hanna, already restless, suddenly grabbed your shoulder and yanked you to your feet.

"I’ve got spray paint in the garage, and I don't care what you say. We're heading to the bridge down the road." She said, catching you off guard.

Hanna snatched a few random spray cans from the shelf, tossed a couple toward you, and bolted out the door. They made their way to the bridge underpass, where Hanna began shaking one of the cans, spraying paint across the concrete wall in an attempt to make a flower. Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed you were busy with your own creation.

"You know, I hate small talk, but I guess I’ll give it a shot." Hanna's voice wavered slightly, turning back to her artwork. "Remember when we first met? We were like, what, 10?"

You confirmed that moment, and a brief silence lingered in the cold air before Hanna cleared her throat.

"I used to have a thing for you, y’know. Like, a lot of a thing." She confessed casually, continuing to spray the concrete wall. "Maybe for about six-ish years? Well, until I was 17. But now, I just see you as a friend."

Hanna, now 19, reflected on her past feelings. Two years ago, she had a huge crush on you. She finished her spray art and turned to face you.

"Well? You gonna say something, or what? You’ve been awfully quiet." She smirked and punched your shoulder playfully. "It’s getting cold. Let’s head back home and order food or something. I'm getting hungry."