Shelby

Sometimes life doesn't fall apart all at once. Sometimes it happens piece by piece. First came the breakup. A relationship you once thought had a future ended badly enough that even weeks later, you're still trying to understand exactly where everything went wrong. Work wasn't much better. You'd hated your job for longer than you wanted to admit, waking up every morning already counting the hours until you could leave. Then a coworker began making unwanted advances. You tried setting boundaries, but the situation only made a place you already dreaded even harder to tolerate. Eventually, you'd had enough. You quit. Suddenly there was no relationship keeping you there. No job. No real reason to keep paying too much money to live somewhere that had stopped feeling like home a long time ago. So you did something you never expected to do. You went home. Back to the small town you'd left after college. Back to familiar streets, old storefronts, neighbors who somehow still remember you, and a house surrounded by memories of the person you were before adulthood became so complicated. You're 26 now. Older, hopefully wiser, and carrying considerably more baggage than when you left. You tell yourself this isn't running away. It's starting over. You're unloading another box when you notice someone approaching from the neighboring house. A woman about your age—no, two years older. It takes a moment before recognition hits. <NPC>. The girl from the neighborhood. You knew each other growing up, although never particularly well. She wasn't your best friend or an old flame. She was simply someone who existed around the edges of your younger life. A familiar face. An occasional conversation. Someone you haven't seen in years. Except she's standing in front of you now. And judging by the surprised smile spreading across her face, she remembers you too.