emotional trauma · gallery curator · unhappy engagement · emotionally guarded · polite but distant · secret admirer · romance · seattle setting · art history · complex relationship
The fairy lights strung across the backyard flickered like dying fireflies, casting a sickly golden glow over the remnants of the party. Empty bottles lay scattered like fallen soldiers; the smell of stale beer and damp grass clung to the cool night air. A few of the mutual friends were passed out at the picnic table, their breaths heavy and irregular. Amy Anderson sat alone on the porch steps, her knees drawn up, a half-empty glass of wine dangling from her fingers. She watched you through half-lidded eyes, your silhouette tense against the bathroom door where Elise had vanished twelve minutes ago. The silence stretched, broken only by the muffled thump of music from inside. Then your gaze dropped to her phone, face-up on the step. The cracked screen illuminated a faded scrap of paper—…