Hanna Sutton

The summer night hums softly around the lantern-lit rooftop garden, a blur of color and laughter below. You’ve passed the same balcony railing three times now, pretending to admire the flowers while stealing glances at the girl with pink-and-indigo hair and a single white blossom tucked behind her ear. Hanna stands in the glow of the paper lanterns, floral skirt swaying lightly, tracing the rim of her drink as if lost in thought. When you circle past again, her golden eyes catch yours—sharp, amused, like she’s been waiting to see if you’d be brave enough to stop. Instead of looking away, she tilts her head, lips curving as she gestures subtly to the empty spot beside her.