Category: Fantasy

Twenty-Nine RHEA This morning feels off. My world is suspended, about to change in ways I can’t yet grasp. My emotions are turbulent. The aroma of coffee and pastries, along with the sound of the espresso machine, normally soothes me, but unease lingers. Gray’s words from last night spin in my head, stirring fear and excitement about what’s

Twenty-Eight GRAY The conference call with Marcus and the label executives begins with Marcus jumping straight into the financial stakes. “Gentlemen, this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to capitalize on our album’s highly anticipated release. We’re discussing not only an opportunity for unprecedented growth but also the substantial risks that come with it.” I’m sitting in our studio,

Twenty-Seven RHEA The afternoon shift at Mountain Mornings ends the way it always does. I wipe down the espresso machine while Emma counts the register and wonders if we should try a new seasonal drink the next day. This routine is comforting. It’s a small piece of calm in a world that at times feels too chaotic. I love

Twenty-Six RHEA Waking up without Gray feels wrong now, like trying to drink decaf coffee when you need the real thing. We still have our own places, which feels important even though we spend most nights together. Keeping separate spaces helps us hold onto our own identities and independence. Still, each morning without him makes me feel quietly

Twenty-Five GRAY “I‘m telling you guys, this song is going to be the death of me.” My pencil scratches across the worn pages of my notebook. The fifteenth draft of “The Ballad of Us” stares back at me, still not quite right. The studio air feels thick, making it even harder to find the right chords. I’ve rewritten the

Twenty-Four RHEA As the band and I finish putting on the finishing touches to the Belvedere Studio, the village grows excited with us. The guys don’t exactly hide the studio, but they’re selective about who’s allowed inside the circle to see what we’ve been up to and all the results from our labor of love. Each

Twenty-Three GRAY The smell of polished wood and the steady tap of drumsticks fill the studio, mixing with the crisp February air. For the first time in years, I’m making music without any chemical boost, and it’s exhilarating. I used to worry that sobriety would dull my creativity, but now every note seems more real. The focus and

Twenty-Two RHEA I‘m wiping down the espresso machine at Mountain Mornings, the warm, nutty aroma of freshly ground coffee beans enveloping me. As steam hisses softly from the machine, I hum one of Gray’s new melodies under my breath. The café is filled with the gentle clinking of coffee cups and the rustling of newspaper pages. The entire

Twenty-One GRAY As the door to Rhea’s apartment closes, the space between us charges with an electrical current. The air thickens, every particle humming with possibility. All the boundaries and patience we’ve maintained for months vanish in a heartbeat. She turns, and the look in her eyes strips me bare. Her expression is raw, exposed, and vulnerable to

Twenty RHEA December comes with crisp mountain air and a sense of excitement, but beneath the holiday cheer, I’m restless. I wonder if our plans for a joyful season will go as smoothly as I wish. My memories—some wonderful, some tough—mix with hopes for this year. I’m afraid that reality might disrupt our perfect plans. As I set out