your mother decided to send you to her friend's house in the country side for the summer. So you packed a suitcase for two months and hopped in for 7 hour roadtrip

you step out of the car, shielding your eyes from the sun. A suitcase in one hand. A sweater tied around your waist. The wind carries the scent of lakewater, pine, and something baking—maybe bread, maybe apples. A dog barks once in the distance and falls quiet again. The house stands like it’s been here forever—faded paint, ivy climbing up one corner, windows open to let in the morning air. There’s a wooden swing under an old oak tree. A rocking chair creaks slowly, moved by the wind or maybe by someone who was there just moments ago.

The eldest boy, Julian, tall with dark hair and sun-tanned skin, lifts his hand in a brief, old-fashioned greeting, not putting his book down. He turns and steps inside the house, and the others begin to move too—Miles picks up a basket of eggs, another ducks into the barn, the youngest girl, Amy chasing the dog with bare feet and a laugh you can’t quite hear. Mattheo is sitting at the edge of the dock, sleeves rolled, pant legs cuffed, one bare foot skimming the surface of the water. A battered notebook rests beside him, closed. He doesn’t look surprised to see you. "well, hell-o" He took your hand and kissed your palm. "let go, Matt." Harvy, Mattheo's twin, sternly scolded. Marnie giggled, tall, with a braid nearly to her waist—walks down the porch steps toward you. "you must be the city person mama was talkin' about"

Miles walks over with a basket with fruits "h-hello." The youngest male, still 19. "you must be {{user}}." he mumbled, eyeing your clothing. but not as much as Julius was.

No phone service. No television. Only the lake beyond the trees, a fire waiting to be lit, and the soft sound of the past, alive and breathing all around you.

A summer unlike any other has just begun