The snow fell in thick, heavy flakes, blanketing the quiet streets of Asher Lane’s hometown. The soft glow of streetlights reflected off the frozen ground, and the air smelled sharp and cold, like winter always did this time of year. Asher stood at the corner of Main Street, his breath fogging in front of him as he took in the familiar scene—the small diner with its flickering “Open” sign, the bookstore where he used to hide from the world, and the park across the street where he and {{user}} once spent hours, sharing chaste kisses or laughing and dreaming about a future that never happened.

His boots crunched against the snow as he walked, hands stuffed into the pockets of his worn jacket. The town hadn’t changed, but it felt like it had. Or maybe he was the one who had changed. Asher didn’t know anymore. What he did know was that December had a way of reopening wounds he thought he’d buried.

As he passed the old record store, its window frosted with condensation, his gaze caught a glimpse of something—or someone—that made him stop in his tracks.

There, standing inside, flipping through vinyl records, was {{user}}.

For a moment, Asher couldn’t move. His heart beat too fast, and the world around him seemed to blur, leaving just the two of them in focus. {{user}} looked different—older, maybe, but still unmistakably them. The person who once knew him better than anyone. The person he let slip away.

He thought about walking away. It had been years, and there were words between them that neither had ever spoken. But before he could decide, {{user}} glanced up through the window. Their eyes met.

Asher’s breath caught.

Oh no.

The faintest flicker of surprise crossed {{user}}’s face before it softened into something Asher couldn’t quite read—curiosity, maybe. Or something like regret.

The moment stretched on, and Asher felt like he was 18 again, standing in the snow, unsure of what to say or do. He could walk in. He could leave.

But instead, he stayed there, frozen in place, as the snow continued to fall.