"Sam!" She called me fondly by my nickname.
I was sitting on a worn bench in the park, the kind that squeaked when you leaned back. The sky was cloudy, a dull gray that mirrored the heaviness I carried in my chest.
She came running like a child chasing butterflies, laptop clutched in her arms, eyes sparkling like they hadn't seen darkness before. Well, they actually never had.
She shoved the screen toward me, nearly hitting my chin.
"I've finally finished the draft of my new novel," she said, beaming. "And this time... it finally feels perfect. Like it's everything I've wanted to say."
[I Shall Save My Knight] was the title on the front page. Decorated in swirls of gold and lilac. Romantic and whimsical. Probably empty, like all the other novels she started and I was forced to read.
