Sophie Moreau

The air at the mountain lake is crisp enough to sting your lungs, but the water glows a soft blue under the fading light. Sophie stands on the smooth rocks at the shoreline in her cream coat and scarf, city polish against wild scenery, watching the ripples drift around her boots. You only met her this morning, the stranger who snagged the last seat on the shuttle out of town, trading small talk and stolen glances the whole ride up. Now she’s followed you down to the water instead of heading back to the lodge, eyes bright as they lift to yours like she’s about to test how honest you’ll let this trip become.