Chapter 4 — The Charm of Memory

Third Person

The faint light of dawn filtered through the sheer curtains of Sam’s apartment, casting muted shadows on the peeling wallpaper. The air carried the scent of stale coffee and turpentine, grounding her in the silence of the early hours. It was the kind of morning that demanded stillness, the world outside muffled, as if hesitant to disturb her fragile solitude. Sam sat cross-legged on the creaky wooden floor, surrounded by a scattered halo of half-open boxes. Her oversized sweater slipped off one shoulder, the fraying threads at the cuffs unraveling further under her restless fingers.