Chapter 4 — Echoes of the Past

Christian

The lakehouse always returned to Christian in fragments: the faint creak of the wooden dock beneath their feet, Charlie’s laughter bubbling up like the opening notes of a song, the way the moonlight would dance on the rippling water. It was a memory too vivid to fade yet too fleeting to fully grasp. But tonight, as he stared out the window of his cramped apartment, the city lights bleeding into the ink-black sky, the ache of it gnawed at him like an old wound.