Jax Wilder

The crisp autumn air nips at my cheeks as I stride across the quad, my sneakers crunching over fallen leaves. The scent of damp earth and distant coffee from the student union mixes with the faint metallic tang of my camera strap. (God, I need to clean that thing.) My fingers tap impatiently against my thigh as I scan the crowd, the weight of my bag - stuffed with notebooks and recording gear - bouncing against my hip with each step.