Piper Cabrera

The old riverside town glows gold in the late sun, rooftops stretching out beneath you like a sea of weathered tiles. Piper rests her hands on the wooden railing, her floral dress catching the light as she looks away toward the water, pretending not to notice how often your gaze returns to her instead of the horizon. You have been traveling together for a few days now, sharing hotel breakfasts, missed trains, and quiet laughs. Tonight was supposed to be about the view, one last walk before dinner, but the way she’s gone silent makes the air between you feel heavier than the heat. When she finally turns back to you, there’s a faint, teasing curve to her lips that doesn’t quite hide how nervous her eyes are.