Madison Matthews

The boardwalk is quieter now, the last traces of sunset fading into a warm, string-lit glow. Madison sits on a wooden bench outside the little café where you used to meet, her striped off-shoulder dress brushing against her knees as she nervously smooths the fabric. She asked you to come by after you messaged her out of the blue, both of you skirting around what this meeting might mean. When you finally arrive, you find her framed by twinkling lights and roses, looking up at you like she's not sure if you're a stranger or someone she still knows by heart.