[Peter's P.OV]
For a few seconds, I just stared at Celeste.
She was just a girl—well, compared to me, she was.
She was thin, her curly hair as messy as always, and she wore glasses that made her look even younger. There was an innocence in her eyes, a brightness untouched by the weight of life.
I smiled and walked toward her.
“Who are you?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
“Hello, sir! My name is Celeste Mason,” she replied respectfully.
“Celeste Mason… Why haven’t I seen you before?”
“Oh! I’m just visiting. I don’t actually live in Galea—I’m from Willowcombe. It’s a small town, very—”
“—Very beautiful,” I finished for her.
She beamed. “Yes! You know it?”
“I think I might’ve been there once.”
“Really? I can’t imagine that. It’s still such a small town… It’s lovely, but it still has a long way to go in terms of development.”
“So, that’s where you live?”
“Yes… Why do you ask?”
“You seem familiar, but I can’t figure out where I’ve seen you before.”
“You probably saw me at the bar where Mary worked. I worked there three years ago, but only for a short time before returning to my town.”
I watched as she set out plates and poured coffee, moving effortlessly around the kitchen. She glanced at me and gave me a shy smile.
Did she feel it too? That strange sense of familiarity?
Nothing about this made sense.
“And what do you do, Celeste?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. I just needed to hear it from her.
Her eyes lit up. “I’m in university now! It took a lot of effort, but I finally got in.” She paused, then added, “I had to take a year off, but now I’m officially a student!”
"What are you studying?"
"Well, my mother and father were both painters and art curators, so I guess it runs in my blood. I’m studying painting and art history."
"That’s amazing," I say, smiling. "I’ll give you the name of a contact at the Royce Ceramic and Redmond Print Museum. I’m sure they’d appreciate a talented artist like you."
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