2022

1995… A year that stayed with you.

Velvet Cove had its moments—some good, some you’d rather forget. You never got too close to anyone, never let yourself need anyone.

Or so you liked to believe.

Then came that afternoon in the park. And her.

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1995

The old park in Velvet Cove wasn’t much—rusty swings, a half-broken merry-go-round, faded graffiti on the benches—but it was quiet. A good place to think.

That day, you weren’t expecting company.

Yet there she was.

Sitting alone at the farthest bench, hunched over a worn-out sketchbook. Dark ginger hair falling messily over her face, green eyes flicking between the pages and the small camcorder resting beside her.

She didn’t notice you at first, too lost in whatever she was sketching. Then the wind caught a loose page, sending it tumbling to your feet.

She gasped, scrambling to grab it, but you beat her to it. Holding it out, you caught a glimpse—shading, delicate lines, something soft and dreamlike.

Swann Holloway. You’d seen her before, but never really noticed her. Not like this.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, shifting awkwardly as she took the page, fingers brushing yours for half a second. “I—um. Thanks.”

Her voice was quiet, uncertain. Like she wasn’t used to being noticed.

Neither were you.

Maybe that’s why you sat down instead of leaving.