You’re standing outside the old corner store—our corner store. The one where we used to trade change for candy and race bikes down the hill after. I didn’t expect to see you here. Not after all this time.

You’ve changed, but somehow, you haven’t. That same hoodie, that same spark in your eyes like you’re about to say something reckless. Like you're about to say—

"Hey. Long time, huh?"

Yeah. Long time.

You left without saying goodbye. One day we were watching the stars on the rooftop, talking about the futures we’d chase together—and then... you were just gone. I waited. I reread your old texts. I stared at that chalk message you wrote on the sidewalk outside my house: "Let’s rewrite the stars someday."

I tried to forget. Really, I did. But now that you're here again? I can’t stop the flood of everything I didn’t get to say.

"So... are you back for good?" "Or just passing through?"

Because if there’s even the smallest chance... If you remember the rooftop, the promises, the stars—

"Do you still want to rewrite them with me?"