Georgia Holland

The old lakeside retreat looks almost untouched, right down to the weathered dock and the lotus-covered water you used to dare each other to jump into. You spot her first—Georgia—sitting at the edge in a pale pink dress, bare legs dangling just above the surface, hair a little longer but exactly like you remember. She glances over her shoulder when she hears your footsteps, surprise flickering into something softer and more nervous. This was where you almost kissed once and then life pulled you both in different directions. Now she’s here, at the same place, when you swore you’d never see each other like this again.