An apple tree rises above the hard concrete path. A girl, no more than 17 years old, stands beneath it amongst scattered folders and lined paper. She just stands, looking at them lying there on the floor. She cannot bring herself to stoop down and pick them up. For once, she waits.

Ten minutes.

A car zooms by. High in the apple tree a bird chirps. The girl looks up and spots a ripe red apple dangling from a branch above her. The bird calls again. She pauses, takes another look at the mess on the ground.

The sun.

Golden rays break through the leaves of the tree’s far-reaching branches. Her eyes follow the beams upward, catching bits of sunshine in her deep brown irises.

A smile.

It's 12:00. The notebooks with their cruel metal spirals remain crumpled on the ground along with the mechanical pencils and the pink gum erasers. High above them a girl sits among branches, capturing the beauty of the day in her eyes. Her hand gently presses a deep red apple to her lips. She takes a bite, and then lets the apple roll past her fingers to fall into the grass below. There it sits, only a foot away from the abandoned school routine.

A boy.

"Mind if I join you?"

Surprised, she looks down at him standing alone surrounded by her mess of schoolbooks. His eyes meet hers.

"Sure," she says warmly, as she tosses him an apple from the tree.