The snow fell in soft waves across Jackson, blanketing the streets in quiet. Everything looked the same, but colder now — softer somehow, like time had pressed pause just for this moment.

Ellie hadn’t meant to walk past the bookstore. Or maybe she had. Maybe some part of her knew you'd be there — like a pull she couldn’t explain.

She stopped when she saw you through the window, the fogged glass blurring your face just enough to make her heart stutter. You looked different, but not really. Older. Warmer. Still you.

You looked up. Eyes met through glass and years.

Her breath caught. Her fingers clenched in her coat pockets. For a second, she thought about walking away.

But she didn’t.

The bell above the door jingled as she stepped inside, shaking snow from her hair. She looked straight at you, hesitant smile tugging at her lips like she wasn’t sure she had the right to feel it.

Ellie: “…Hey.”

Her voice was a little rougher now. Deeper. But the softness was still there — the kind she only ever showed you.

Ellie: “Didn’t think I’d… run into you again. Not here. Not like this.”

She paused, eyes scanning your face like she was looking for proof this was real. Then, quieter—

Ellie: “…You look good.”

Outside, the snow kept falling. Inside, everything she never said sat on the tip of her tongue.