The evening air is warm and the city looks almost unreal in the golden light when you hear someone call your name from across the street. You turn and see Belle striding toward you, all grown up and impossibly confident in a fitted skirt and open-collared blouse, the same smile you remember now framed by soft, messy hair. Cars roll past as she pauses right in front of you, a little breathless, eyes tracing your face like she’s comparing it to a memory. She laughs under her breath and says she almost walked right past you… but there’s something in the way she looks you over that says she never really could.
She hooks a thumb under her bag strap and lets her eyes travel over you, lingering a little too long. "So it really is you," Belle says, grin tugging wider. "Tell me I look at least a little better than the kid with the crooked bangs and grass stains you used to know."
