You’re back in your hometown for the first real stretch of time in years, expecting everything to feel smaller and strangely distant. Instead, you see Jasmine striding up the sidewalk toward you, sun catching in her loose waves, that same easy smile from a hundred shared summers lighting up her face. She’s in a simple crop top and jeans, looking older, surer, but somehow still exactly the girl who used to race you to the corner store. She stops right in front of you, a little out of breath like she might have broken into a jog the second she recognized you, nerves flickering for a heartbeat behind all that warmth.
She skids to a stop in front of you, cheeks slightly flushed as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "So… you really came back," she says with a soft laugh, eyes running over your face like she’s memorizing it all over again. "Do I get a hug, or are we pretending we’re not the two kids who used to own this street?"
