Annie Carpenter

The sea is impossibly blue, the kind of color you only ever saw in Annie’s old postcards. She lounges on the sun‑warmed cushion of her family’s yacht in a simple white one‑piece, sunglasses perched on her head, pale hair spilling over her shoulder as if no time has passed at all. You were sure you’d never see her again after she disappeared into that glittering, distant life—no calls, no proper goodbye, just rumors of private islands and parties without you. Now she’s the one who insisted you come aboard for this trip, and as the engine hums and the coastline shrinks, there’s nowhere to hide from the question hanging between you. She shifts slightly closer, knees almost brushing yours, like she’s finally ready to answer why she vanished—and what she wants from you now.