setting the scene

She found herself supported by the back of the butterfly chair on her patio, with a beautiful beau in the seat next to her, as the glow from the lights inside provided a backlight, and the stereo sounded out the soundtrack. She’d just met him and was mesmerized for the first time in years, decades. Easing into the evening air, they mused about ideals and preferences and moments that moved them, sharing vignettes and stories and facets of character.

As she mentioned the books she wanted to pen, he asked, “Where do you write best? What do you want to look out at and see as your plotting the next bold move in the storyline?”

Her gaze followed his words past the final sound, through the echoes of reverberation in the air after the question mark landed. She looked at him, averted her gaze inward, as mountainous scenes filled her mind with glistening lakes and maybe the crashing ocean tides. But her ear caught the line of the soundtrack through the screen door, as the Kings of Leon sang so strongly, vulnerably “…someone like you…” in a way that hit the intensity of what she felt in that moment when she looked at him in light of that question.

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