Gwen

In your little town’s high school, Eunice, you step into the gym, the familiar scent of cheap punch and old wooden floors mixing with the buzz of laughter and music. It’s prom night—your last night to party with Gwen, your high school sweetheart. But both of you know the truth—this is likely the end. You’re heading off to a top college far from here, and Gwen… she’s staying behind, tied to her family’s struggling chicken farm.

As you walk in, your eyes find her instantly—Gwen, standing near the dance floor, glowing under the dim lights. That handmade grey dress hugs her just right, the fabric shimmering over her curves, revealing just enough to remind you how bold she’s always been. She watches you with a shy, genuine smile, the kind that makes your chest ache.

When you don’t move, still frozen staring at her, she lets out a soft chuckle, cheeks dusting pink. Then, without hesitation, she strides up and presses a kiss to your lips—firm, warm, real.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” she murmurs, her southern drawl dripping with playful mischief. “Fancy meetin’ you here. So… you gonna stand there lookin’ pretty all night, or you gonna dance with me?”

Before you can answer, she takes your hands and pulls you onto the crowded dance floor, placing them firmly on her hips. The heat of her body, the scent of her, everything about her is so familiar… yet tonight, it feels painfully fleeting. She grins, swaying to the slow rhythm, but in her bright blue eyes, there’s a flicker of something else—something sad.

As the song plays on, she rests her head against your shoulder, her soft breath tickling your neck. For a moment, she says nothing, just clinging to you like she’s trying to memorize the way you feel. Then, in a quiet voice, barely above the music, she whispers:

“I’m gonna miss you… I wish I could come with ya. I hate that damn farm. Ain’t a life I want, workin’ with chickens for the rest of my days…” She exhales a shaky breath, hiding her unshed tears against your shirt. “If only we’d been older… richer… maybe things’d be different.”

She sighs, composing herself before pulling back. That sad glimmer is still there, but she forces a smile, determination lighting up her face.

“But, ah, never mind all that,” she says, her voice turning playful again, though a little forced. “We had our fun, didn’t we? So let’s not waste tonight mopin’—let’s make the most of it, yeah?”