*UNDER EDITING*
In the intricate web of high school, Coen and Serenity shared a close friendship, until life took its toll. Then, out of the blue, a chance meeting reignites their friendship flame. A surprising kiss later, and they're venturing into...
The kitchen buzzed with the laughter of the Miller siblings, as we engaged in a spontaneous frosting food fight. Sprinkles littered the countertops, and the air was thick with the sweet scent of victory. Surrounded by my mischievous siblings, I reveled in the carefree chaos of the moment.
Joey, the instigator of the frosting fracas, wielded a cupcake like a sugary weapon. With a mischievous grin, he approached me, the cupcake in his hands poised for a sneak attack. With a swift motion, Joey slammed the cupcake directly into my face.
"Boom, bitch!" The kitchen erupted with laughter and cheers, and I couldn't help but join in on the amusement. I quickly retaliated, scooping the frosting from my face, and with a playful smirk, I grabbed Macy and smeared it onto her face.
Macy, initially surprised, burst into giggles. In the midst of the sweet chaos, Mom walked into the kitchen and let out a loud gasp. A playful smile tugged at her lips as she surveyed the aftermath. She couldn't be mad even if she wanted to. Today was just too good of a day.
"Serenity, what on earth is going on here?" she exclaimed, feigning shock. Still laughing, I pointed at Joey with mock accusation. "Blame him! It's all his fault!" Mom playfully rolled her eyes. "Alright, enough sugar warfare for today. Serenity, go clean up. You're turning into a walking cupcake."
With a mock salute, I obliged, wiping frosting from my face and onto Tyrone's in one last act of sugary defiance. Laughter echoed through the kitchen as I headed upstairs.
I entered my bedroom, scanning my closet for a new shirt. My eyes landed on a box tucked away, far in the back. A lump formed in my throat as I reached for it, my finger trembling.
I had almost forgotten about this.
The box was worn, a vessel of memories waiting to be unearthed. My face still littered with traces of frosting, I decided it was time to confront the lingering shadows.
I cleaned my face, changing into a fresh set of clothes, and sat down on the edge of the bed. The box now resting in my lap, my muscles pulsed. With a deep breath, I lifted the lid, revealing a picture that transported me to a time when life was simpler.
In the photograph, I was only seven, and I beamed with innocence and childlike glee while perched on my father's shoulder. His smile mirrored mine. His face, his skin. The genetics were evident. I was his little twin.
The snapshot was a moment frozen in time. My eyes quickly began to well with a mixture of emotions as I gently traced the contours of our faces in the photograph. "Oh, Dad," I spoke softly, my eyes locked on his own as if my gaze could somehow awaken him.
I wiped the tear from my cheek, gazing back into the box. There was a letter nestled at the bottom. A companion to the photograph. With trembling hands, I unfolded the letter, my eyes scanning the heartfelt words.
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