Ruby dress, soft hair on her shoulders, legs crossed, a pen spinning between her fingers with the grace of a ballerina and the threat of a blade.
And she’s not alone.
Across from her sits a man in his fifties with a politician’s smile, a pale blazer, and… yeah, I recognize him.
Nino I-don’t-remember-his-last-name — I’ve seen him a hundred times on the giant screens during the Fall Bucket List Competition, usually during one of Elm Hollow’s many circus-level events. I never paid much attention, but that mustache?
Unforgettable.
Sloane sits at her desk, poised and composed… except she’s not.
She looks perfect, yes, but there’s something tight in her posture.
Not fear—pressure. Contained anger. Frustration.
Nino is talking in a loud, theatrical voice, gesturing like he’s hosting the Miss Universe finale.
“I know we’re in the middle of the Christmas festivities, Sloane, but we’re already planning the Valentine’s celebrations! And you cannot skip our Valentine’s Reality Show! You’re our Cupid. I’m counting on you!”
She doesn’t reply.
She just smiles—that polite one. The one that meansI want to die but I’ll pretend everything is fine.
The mayor doesn’t notice. Or he does and simply does not care.
“I’ll send the documents! And of course, we’re expecting enthusiasm! The public adores you!”
He shakes her hand and turns toward the exit.
I jump back just in time, flattening myself against the wall like a guilty teenager.
I slide behind the column next to the doorway.
I mean… I’ve done everything to not be noticed in Elm Hollow. Yet somehow I still ended up asthe hooded guypeople whisper about. Yes, I know they’ve been talking about it. Luckily they’ve been distracted by a thousand other small-town scandals. Apparently pranksters have been a thing here for years, so no one cares enough to investigate the mystery hooded man.
The mayor walks past without seeing me.
Phew.
Escaped.
I wait ten seconds.
Fifteen. Just in case. I refuse to be that movie character who steps out immediately and gets caught because the other guy forgot his keys and comes back. You know what I mean? I yell at those characters.
When it’s finally safe, I knock twice on the doorframe and walk in.
She’s at her desk in the exact same position as before, except… she’s not the same.
Her back is curved.
Her shoulders dropped.
Her eyes dimmed with something she tried—and failed—to hide.
She looks like someone holding up a collapsing castle with her bare hands.
And I have no idea why, but it makes me want to break something.
