The week following the gala passed in a blur of final exams, celebratory dinners with Chloe and Ethan, and the bittersweet task of packing up her dorm room. The framed drawing of the Camaro was the first thing she carefully wrapped and boxed, a tangible anchor in the sea of transition. Adrian's invitation hung in the air, a delicate, unaddressed question. She knew she would go, but the when and the how felt momentous, requiring a certain emotional courage she was still gathering.
The answer came in the form of a simple, typed letter delivered to her department mailbox. No email, no text. A letter. It was on plain, heavy stock, the message brief and to the point.
Amelia,
The car is ready. If you're still interested, Leo is closing the shop for a private viewing this Saturday at 4 PM. No pressure. No expectations.
- *A*
