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Chapter 4: A Late Summer Dream
By August, the house feels fuller. Full of stories, of warmth, of the soft weight of summer afternoons. She moves through it slowly now, barefoot on cool floors, pausing in doorways where the light falls just right. Every corner holds a memory: the echo of laughter through open windows, wine glasses lining the kitchen sink, the almost bare basil plant. The days feel noticeably shorter now, slipping by more quickly, as summer exhales sweetly. And she’s doing her best to breathe it in.
Outside, the garden hums with late-season life. The light turns a deeper gold, casting long shadows across the floor. There’s a shift in the air…subtle, but certain. She feels it. A gentle nudge forward. Lists start forming in her mind. Plans begin to take shape. But for now, she stays a little longer. A candle flickers. A breeze lifts the curtain. A moment holds.
Because this part, the in-between, is what she’ll remember most. The dream-like days right before it all begins again. Where time feels suspended, and the beauty of summer lingers just a little longer.