97

ASHTON

As January transitioned into February, an unexpected tempest descended upon us, catching us off guard. From the window of our hotel room, bathed in the warm glow of the evening sun, I observed the world outside. It had been nearly 24 hours since my cousins, my little sister, and I found ourselves trapped in this cramped space.

Standing by the window, I gazed out onto the bustling Los Angeles street below. Hidden behind the opaque glass, I remained unseen, while the world carried on its chaotic dance before my eyes.

The streets were teeming with hundreds upon hundreds of bodies, completely filling every inch of pavement and sidewalk. Paparazzi mingled with the masses, their cameras relentlessly flashing. Despite the best efforts of the addi