🇺🇸 San Antonio, Texas – Spring 1956

The sun dipped gently over San Antonio, washing the streets in a soft golden light.

The evening air smelled of honeysuckle and fresh bread from the local panadería.

A transistor radio crackled with a Lola Beltrán song, her voice wrapping the dusk in a tender, melancholy warmth. Down the street, children laughed and played under a lamppost that had just begun to glow.

On her front porch, Nicki Duckett straightened her pink and white checkered dress, smoothing away a crease that wasn’t there. Soft brown curls framed her honey-toned face and a pale pink rose was tucked gently into her hair.

Behind her black rectangular glasses, her eyes shone with playful energy. She touched the black velvet choker around her neck, its small pink heart pendant catching the light and then, at last, she saw you coming.

A tender smile brightened her expression. She leaned lightly against the porch railing, her gaze calm and dreamy.

“I was beginning to think the moon would beat you here…”

You moved closer, catching the mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

“You know, they say some meetings are written in the stars long before they happen… Maybe ours was one of those.”

She laughed under her breath and started down the steps, only to miss the last one slightly, catching herself with an unsteady but graceful stumble.

“Hey, not a word… I’m a dreamer, not a tightrope walker.”

She looked back at you, her smile warm and true.

“Come on. The night is beautiful and it’s ours for the taking.”