a walk down memory lane
As I walked past places Amy and I frequented, nostalgia hit unexpectedly. The favorite park, the little bookshop—a part of our life.
‘Start fresh,’ I murmured, brushing away lingering thoughts. Amy thought the island was a victory, but it was merely turned page.
She’d find soon enough that owning it wasn’t just a piece of paper but a new chapter unfolding.
