Fake To Fall
She cracked her knuckles and typed the first line of her next book:
“It started with a lie, a shared bed, and a man who kissed like he already knew my secrets...”
She stopped, reread it, and smiled. Outside, snowflakes had begun to fall—soft, tentative, like new beginnings. Somewhere, Lake would be teasing her about overusing ellipses or calling her “professor” just to make her blush.
The rest of the story?
Still being written—
one sunrise, one shared cup of coffee, and one honest kiss at a time.
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