Alex never planned on spending his summer break buried under deadlines, but that was exactly where he found himself.


    The office buzzed with quiet energy as his coworkers huddled over screens, their faces illuminated by the glow of unfinished projects. His own laptop sat open, the final render of his latest graphic design flashing across the screen. Two weeks of non-stop work, barely any sleep, and an unhealthy amount of caffeine had led to this moment.


    A voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Alex, we need to go. The meeting starts in five minutes."


    He grabbed his laptop and pen drive, shaking off the exhaustion that clung to him. The conference room was filled with murmurs of approval as his designs were reviewed. The project was officially greenlit, and for the first time in weeks, Alex let himself exhale.


    After the meeting, he grabbed a late lunch before heading home. His apartment felt more like a crash pad than a home—just a place to exist between projects. He collapsed onto the bed, staring at the calendar pinned to his wall. One more day until summer break.


    It had been two years since his last visit to Maplewood. Two years of putting work first, of telling himself he''d visit next time, of missing his family and friends without ever admitting it. Not this year.


    His phone buzzed. A text from Jason.


    ?? Jason: Bro, you better not have turned into a boring city guy.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ?? Alex: No promises.


    ?? Jason: If you say “art is my passion,” I’m disowning you.


    Alex smirked, shaking his head. Jason hadn''t changed a bit.


    Camilla’s message was more direct.


    ?? Camilla: Try not to cause a disaster when you get here.


    Fair. Last time, Alex had been part of a very questionable plan involving fireworks and Jason’s rooftop.


    Maya hadn’t texted, but that was expected. She had always been the quiet one, the observer. There was something about her—like she was always waiting for something.


    With a sigh, Alex shut his eyes. Tomorrow, he’d be home.


    <hr>


    The next morning, he woke up with a rare sense of excitement. Last day before freedom.


    He brewed his strongest coffee, took a long shower, and packed his bag for work. The final meeting was a formality—just an official stamp on a project already done. By noon, he was out of the office, weaving through the busy streets of New York with only one thought in mind: Maplewood.


    That night, he packed his suitcase carefully, his movements slower than usual. Each folded shirt, each packed charger, felt like a step closer to something he hadn’t let himself miss. Home.


    As he zipped his suitcase shut, his fingers brushed against the flannel shirt he always wore back home—soft, worn-in, carrying the scent of past summers. He hesitated before tucking it into his bag.


    For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t thinking about deadlines, projects, or unfinished work. He was thinking about late-night bonfires, endless conversations, and the feeling of riding through Maplewood’s quiet streets with the wind rushing past him.


    As he nestled into bed, exhaustion finally caught up with him. The city outside his window hummed with life, but in his mind, he was already elsewhere—somewhere quieter, where the air smelled like pine and summer rain.


    Tomorrow, he was going back to where it all began.