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Jumping to Conclusions

The moment the car door opened, I was blasted back in time. I was no longer a college-age coyote, who was aware of the world’s troubles and tribulations and who worried about things like bills and friends and making sure you did everything right. No, I was a pup again, running out of the car with my toy plane held aloft as the scent of the lake overwhelmed my nose.

It was enough of a good memory to make me smile for a little while.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay here all on your own?” The voice from the car snapped me back to reality and, unfortunately, the present. Standing next to the car was a raccoon who was getting my suitcase out of the trunk. “Pretty remote, this place.”

“There’s neighbors,” I said and motioned to the homes lining the lake. These homes were generational, as was this one. “Just a little quiet because it’s early. Wait until next week for the Festival.”

“Ah, that Lantern Thing, right?”

I nodded. “The lake will be crowded. Complete with fireworks and food. You’ll think back to this moment and realize just how many people are here.”

The older raccoon rubbed his chin and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Maybe I’ll have to come swing by this place. Anyway, I gotta get back to town. You have a good afternoon Mr. Brown.”

“‘Jace’ is fine. And thank you for taking the time to bring me up here,” I said with a genuine smile and shook the man’s hand firmly but not too firm.

“You have fun, Jace. Call if you need anythin’ or another lift back into town.” And with that, the friendly neighborhood raccoon pulled out of the gravel driveway and away he went, back to his own life and his own worries.

I walked up the steps to the old log-cabin-esque house and fished the keys out of my jeans. I was worried about what the interior would look like after so many years without someone living here, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was clean. I had called someone about a month ago to come straighten up the place, but I didn’t think they’d do this good of a job. Everything was spotless; the furniture was fluffed up, and the absence of any dust or cobwebs was a nice surprise.

This cabin house had been a place where my family would come to every year, sometimes multiple times in one year. We hadn’t visited in awhile though. So many things had happened, and eventually…well, it’s hard to say. I had almost backed out of coming here, but I knew that if I did, I’d never, ever, come back again.

Besides, it was my home now.

I busied myself by checking everything in the home. I saw that there was a plethora of non-perishable food and canned goods. I guess the company that I hired to clean the place had decided to also stock me up. I needed to remember to leave them a good review.

There was, admittedly, very little for me to actually do once I unpacked and poked my nose into everything. Anything that was remotely “personal” was gone, replaced with decorations put up long ago. Gone were the fresh cut flowers on the table, the flag hanging from the porch, and the pictures of Grandpa and Gramma on the walls. I knew where those pictures were: in a storage locker somewhere far away. Oh, well. I could probably have someone send the contents of the locker to me if I really wanted them back.

I placed my laptop case on the kitchen counter and fished out my old beat-up journal. It was gifted to me when I was just a pup. Grandpa told me that it was a special thing, a journal to put what is most on my mind, when I feel like the world has gone upside down. It wasn’t a place to write down my daily events, but rather, the highlights and troubles of my life. As a pup, I had written in it sparingly, but as I got older and life got to me…

I frowned and ran my hand along the leather. I didn’t know why I brought it here. Maybe I was going to write in it. I hadn’t felt like writing anything in it for so long. I looked out the window and decided a walk was probably in order. After stuffing the journal back into my bag, I slung the bag over my shoulder and went off into the woods.

---

When was the last time I managed to go hiking? It had been a long time, that much was certain. The last time I’d walked this trail, I was with my parents. Now, I was alone—accompanied only by birdsong, the hum of bugs, and the soft rustle of wind weaving through the trees. The scent of pine filled my nose and gave me, briefly, a sense of peace.

I wandered for a while, making mental notes of my turns, until I reached a small cliff overlooking the lake. At the cliff’s edge sat a large, flat stone—almost too perfectly placed, like someone had moved it there with care. A natural bench.

I settled onto it, crossing my legs and pulling out my journal. My pen spun absently in my fingers, and I clutched the leather-bound book in my other hand, like I was afraid it might blow away.

So deep in thought was I, that I didn’t notice someone approaching.

"Oh, hello there!"

I nearly jumped out of my fur, my tail puffing up instinctively. I turned quickly to find a red fox standing behind me.

He was lean and athletic, dressed in what looked like vintage jeans and a tucked-in button-down shirt—crisp, but oddly timeless. He smiled warmly and, with a chuckle, covered his muzzle with one hand like he’d just told himself a joke.

"Didn’t mean to spook you," he said. "Honestly didn’t expect anyone to be out here today. Or ever. Unless you count squirrels. Which, frankly, are rude little things."

He spoke smoothly, but there was a slightly theatrical rhythm to it, like he was used to telling stories or performing for an audience. Or maybe he just spent too much time alone. Either way, I blinked.

"It’s okay," I said, brushing off my jeans. "You just caught me off guard."

"Good spot to be caught in," he said, peering over the lake. "Mind if I join you? I promise to keep my squirrel commentary to a minimum."

"It’s not my rock or my forest," I replied. "Go ahead."

"Delightful," he said with a little flourish, as if accepting a royal invitation. He sat beside me, legs crossed with near-perfect posture. "Theo."

"Jace," I replied.

He nodded like the name meant something to him. "Jace. Nice. Solid. You a local?"

"Used to visit. My grandfather owned a cabin nearby. It’s mine now. He passed away a couple of years ago."

Theo’s smile faltered for just a moment, replaced by something softer. But instead of offering a platitude, he simply said, "He must’ve really liked this place."

"He did," I said, surprised by how right that felt.

Theo glanced at my journal. "You a writer? Or a sketcher? Or one of those field note types who catalogs birds and bark textures?"

I chuckled. "Just a journal. Thoughts. Stuff I don’t really say out loud."

"Mysterious," Theo said with a grin. "I like it."

There was something about the way he looked at me—curious, amused, kind—but not too intense. His eyes caught the light in a way that made them look almost unnaturally blue.

"Are you… from around here?" I asked.

"Oh yes," he said quickly. "Been here a while. Know the woods like the back of my paw." He flipped his hand and looked at it as though rediscovering it for the first time. "Still surprised by that one, actually."

"Right," I said, raising a brow. "Where exactly do you live?"

"Other side of the lake." He cleared his throat. "Bit of a hike, but worth it for the view."

"Long walk just to sit on a rock," I teased.

"Well, I like rocks," he said matter-of-factly. "They don’t talk back. Usually."

I laughed. He smiled at that.

"I’d need GPS to find my way home from here," I added.

"GPS?" he repeated, tilting his head like I told him the sky was purple.

"You know—Google Maps? Apple?"

"Ah! Yes, yes. Those. Of course." He nodded quickly, like he was trying to cover a pop quiz. "Haven’t heard someone call it GPS in a while. That took me back."

"It’s not that old a term," I said with a smirk.

Theo leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "Maybe I'm just weird then."

I gave him a look.

He just grinned.

Something about him was off—but not in a bad way. In an old radio show kind of way. Like he belonged to another era, or maybe just watched too many old movies. But I liked it. He felt… different. And oddly safe.

And I didn’t quite know why.

“Ah that explains it; I’m pretty dense sometimes.”

The fox frowned and put his hand on top of my own. “Hey now. Don’t say things like that. We’re our own worst critic. That voice in our heads is the worst version of ourselves we have to live with, but we don’t need to listen to them.”

“But I’m—”

“Jace,” he interrupted, “you need not put yourself down. Why would you say something like that about yourself?”

I tried to respond to that question, but I couldn’t find the right words. As I sat there muttering like a bumbling idiot, Theo smiled warmly and shook his head.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to talk. I just wanted you to be kinder to yourself is all.”

I could feel a lump forming in my throat. “Um, kinder to myself?”

Theo pulled his legs up onto the rock and crossed them under himself. He put his hands on his knees and looked right at me. “Alright, let’s talk then, shall we? You clearly have something bothering you.”

“But I just met you.”

“Yes, and what better person to listen to you objectively?” He made a hand gesture telling me to continue. “Go on, do tell! Theo, what’s bothering that handsome face of yours?”

“This is weird,” I laughed nervously. “What are you, my counselor?”

“If it makes you more at ease, then you may call me Dr. Theo.” He smiled at me with the warmth that he seemed to naturally radiate. “Worst case is that you tell me your story and we’ll never see each other again. I can’t promise I’ll know how to help, but getting it out there can give you a new perspective on whatever problem you might have.”

I felt the words bubbling up before I could stop them. “I… I haven’t lived yet.”

In a flash, Theo’s smile vanished and his eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“I haven’t lived yet,” I repeated and gripped my journal tighter in my hands. “Metaphorically, socially, poetically… I haven’t experienced anything substantial.”

“What makes you think that?” Theo asked, calmly, looking more relaxed now that I gave some clarification. I thought it was odd that he seemed to tense up a moment ago.

“Long story short, I don’t know where I’m going in life,” I confessed. My voice came out softer, and I couldn’t look him in the eyes, in his handsome face, so I looked down at my journal. “I thought that, once I turned eighteen and went to college, I would…have that focus. Find out who I am.”

“You mean being queer?” Theo asked. My head shot up and eyes widened in bewilderment.

“Your bracelet,” he said before I could ask anything. “It’s a rainbow.”

My bracelet was peeking out from under the cuff of my hoodie. It was a leather bracelet with interlocking rings, each one having a different color of the rainbow. I reached out and rubbed it, resisting the urge to tug my sleeve down and hide it.

“I got this the first week I moved into the dorms in my school.”

“And then what happened?”

“Nothing!” I snapped, sounding exasperated. “Nothing happened! You know there’s all these stories online of people who go to college, come out of the closet, meet the man of their dreams, and they both go on to have fantastic careers and live happily ever after?!”

Theo tilted his head slightly to the side. “So, when you went to college, you went with this expectation that your queer life would suddenly come into focus?”

“YES!”

“And what did you do?”

That question caught me off guard. “Huh? What…what do you mean?”

“What did you do to be in more queer spaces?”

“I…uh… I mean…”

“From what I understand,” Theo began, “colleges have all kinds of LGBT+ groups and clubs and events, right? They all sound so fun! Did you go to any of them?”

“No, I didn’t have anyone to go with.”

“So you didn’t want to go alone?”

“No!”

“But you didn’t have any other queer friends?”

“N…no…”

I felt myself feeling more and more uncomfortable as Theo followed up with more and more questions.

“Did it ever occur to you,” he then asked, “that you could have met these people and become friends if you had just put yourself out there a little more?”

“It’s more than that!” I growled. “I also had pressure from my parents. Like getting amazing grades. They want me to be a doctor. They want me to be successful and rich and they’ve driven me since I was a little kid. I had to do well, or all their sacrifice would’ve been wasted!”

“Your family life was putting a strain on you, telling you what to do and who to be?”

“YES!” I was growing tired of this. Theo was just repeating what I told him. Why wasn’t he giving me suggestions?! Why was he sitting there so calmly when I wanted to get up and pace?!

I held up my journal to show him its cover. “I’ve had this journal for years. I’ve written down all the things I wanted to do as a queer coyote. The poems about love, and romance, and friendship, and community… None of it happened, though. If it wasn’t school, then it was my parents suddenly dying in an accident. My grandparents are gone, and I’m the only child, so all that extra work…”

“Jace,” Theo said quietly, gently interrupting me. “That’s horrible. You must have been overwhelmed.”

I rubbed my face, over an eye, with the heel of my palm to push back a tear I felt was about to bubble over. “That’s…weird.”

Theo tilted his head again. “Did I say something silly?”

“Yes. No…I mean…whenever I tell someone that my folks are dead, they always say how sorry they are for me. It’s gotten to the point that I try to avoid the topic because it feels like people are just jumping through the social hoops. It feels fake and disingenuous. But you…you commented on how hard it was.”

“Telling you I’m sorry doesn’t fix anything.” Theo reached out and patted my knee gently. “But showing I can see how much it hurt you… that’s at least making you feel seen. Right?”

I couldn’t believe how true that rang in my head. It made me feel good that someone had figured out what I needed to hear, but also a little sad that it took some strange fox, whom I met for the first time here in the woods, to finally hear it.

Theo shifted his weight a little bit and extended his legs off the rock. “Jace, let me guess… after your folks passed away, you’ve double-downed on your school work, as a tribute or something to them?”

I looked away. It was as though he read me like a book. “Yes. I’m in med school now. Top of my class. I think they’d be proud of me.”

“I can’t say I know you very well, or what you went through, but it sounds like you had a lot on your plate for someone who was barely into adulthood,” the fox said. “You’re queer and don’t know anything about what that means, you deal with all the pressure from your school, and on top of that, you are fulfilling your parents’ final wishes. No wonder you feel the way you do! It sounds like you’ve been living the life that someone else is telling you to live.”

“I just…I mean…wow…” I stumbled over my words and my muzzle hung open. Theo had cut through all the bullshit. Nailed it right on the head. I looked down at my hands still gripping my journal tightly. “But that also feels like an excuse.”

“It’s a reason,” Theo corrected. “And it’s understandable. You didn’t feel comfortable going to these queer events because you had a lot of studying and then real world troubles. You didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to put yourself out there. You were looking for some little push to get you out the door, so to speak.”

I was silent as I mulled it over in my head. So much so that I almost missed what Theo said next.

“There’s still time,” the fox said, “for you to go and experience that stuff. You said you’re in med school? Those are on regular college campuses, right?”

I nodded.

“So, there you go! You have all those chances to do the things you want. You just need someone to give you a little nudge. Go to a luncheon, a function, a rally…just say hi, enjoy the food, talk to people…and go home if nothing clicks.”

He then raised his hand, with one finger extended. “You may need to do it one, two, four, or even eight times before you finally feel like you fit in,” he said, raising his other hand as he spoke to count to eight, before closing his fingers into a fist in each hand. “But it only happens if you try. Life, I’m sorry to say, doesn’t just come around to you, you go to it. Trust me, I know from experience.”

“What do you mean?”

He shifted his position to face the lake again. With his eyes still fixed on the clear water underneath us, he quietly said, “Can I tell you a story, Jace?”

“Sure,” I said and tried to crack a smile. I wasn’t exactly feeling cheerful, but for some reason, I had this feeling that Theo needed to see it at that moment.

“What do you know about the history of this lake?”

“History?” I thought for a moment, trying to remember everything my parents and grandparents told me about this place, but drew a blank. “Uhm… nothing, really. It’s just really out of the way but it’s got its own thriving community, is what I’ve heard for the most part. It’s really small, with only a couple of stop lights in town.”

Theo chuckled softly. “That’s pretty accurate. However, do you know why this place is so sparsely populated? Have you ever wondered, even with this beautiful lake, why some blood-sucking developer hasn’t come in, bought all the land for pennies on the dollar, and built mansions or vacation rentals for a tidy profit?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I know that if someone sunk a lot of money into this place, it would, in theory, eventually grow, but…”

“Decades ago, laws weren’t as friendly as they are today, Jace,” Theo began while still looking out across the water. “If you didn’t fit into the status quo of what society wanted you to be, you would be a pariah. Or worse, you would’ve been considered a criminal just for existing. There were laws on the books all across the country that banned things like being queer and made it illegal to sleep with someone of your same sex. They compared being gay to some truly horrible things…and people were all fine with it.”

My throat went dry. I didn’t know what to say, but I had never been more focused on a story than this very moment.

“People were attacked and even killed for being what you’d call LGBT+. If you wanted to experience what it meant to be anything other than what society told you to be, you had to be incredibly careful and go to hidden locations—but police and vigilantes would often raid these places too. Anonymity was important, but what do you do when you want something more than to be held for a little while? It was a terrible time to be alive because you were hated just for being born.

“It doesn’t take a mental leap to realize that people would look for a place to call their own away from the dangers of what society would say. Eventually, this lake became just that: a refuge.”

Pieces of a puzzle began falling into place inside my mind. “You mean…this place was settled by queer people?”

Theo laughed and leaned his head back. “Not just queer people, but a lot of them. There were other forward-thinking people as well as supporters who decided that living in a town that didn’t hate you was preferable to a town that made you hide in the closet. But it was never widely known, and that was on purpose. If too many people heard about this place, then it would draw the attention of the state, and that would completely defeat the purpose of this town.

“Outside of this town, though, a lot of people were left behind, forced to stand in the face of injustice. But it wouldn’t have been possible anyway to save everyone. I wish we could have done more, honestly…but this place was a lucky oasis for some, a place to be themselves.”

He turned his head slightly, just enough for his blue eyes to stare into mine. “Like your grandfather.”

I felt a bomb going off inside my mind, completely blowing away all the puzzle pieces. It took me a few seconds to gather my thoughts enough to scream: “WHAT?!”

The fox in front of me chuckled like a successful prankster and shook his head. “If I remember correctly, Milly—your grandma—she passed away when you were just a pup. Didn’t your grandfather have a roommate?”

“Well…yeah.” I remembered. Uncle Jerry. A black panther who was always around, always there on Christmas. Grandpa told me that he was my uncle, and my parents acknowledged that. Uncle Jerry passed away when I was a teenager, but he was a major fixture in Grandpa’s life.

“I don’t believe it…” I said aloud, my hands holding my cheeks as I thought about the implications. “No one ever told me.”

“Your parents, and your grandfather, probably had their reasons. I don’t know. But yes, Jerry made your grandfather very happy. Your grandparents had heard about this place and moved here to help support it, and I think your grandfather felt that he could be himself here. He was always faithful to Milly, though. He was a good man, a coyote with the biggest heart.”

Theo smiled but he also looked so sad. His ears were flattened, and his eyes conveyed so much hurt that he had spent time burying. “This place has a magical power, Jace. It somehow always avoids being too well-known, and yet, it brings people to move here when their lives seem to be ready for it. It completes people in a way that I don’t know how to explain.”

“Wait a minute.” I stood up from the stone we’d been sitting on and whirled on Theo. “Something about this is bugging me.”

“Oh?” The fox raised his ears. “What would that be?”

“You!” I pointed at him. “You look to be just a few years older than me. But then, how could you know my grandpa? And Uncle Jerry? There are no foxes that live up here—I know because we came to visit all the time. But you seem to know them very well.”

“Maybe you missed the family of red foxes?” Theo pointed out to the area across the lake. “They could have been from there. Living at that bend up to the river.”

I didn’t take my eyes off Theo. I glared at him. “That’s a lie.”

Theo sighed and patted the stone. “Very well, very well. Sit down if you want your answer. I hate looking up people unless I’m on—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!”

The fox laughed and covered his muzzle with a hand. “Forgive me, Jace, but it was too easy a joke not to take. But please sit, alright?”

I sat down once more but gave Theo a wary look out of the corner of my eye.

“So,” he began, clearing his throat, “remember when I said this place is magical? I wasn’t just being poetic, Jace. This place really does have magic.”

My eyebrows furrowed even more. “I thought I said no lying.”

“Let me finish and I think you’ll understand,” Theo said with a sharp tone in his voice. It seemed that he didn’t like to be called a liar. “Emotions are powerful things, Jace. This place is a conflux of different, raw emotions that are at odds. Sadness, longing, loss, happiness, thoughtfulness…and a sense of finally belonging somewhere.

“I think all that emotion, all that suffering and happiness overlapping, can change a place. If you’ve ever been to a site of an intense moment in history, you’ve probably felt it. This whole lake is the same. And these emotions culminated in something unique.”

“Theo,” I growled under my throat. “I’m getting tired of dealing with riddles and puzzles. Tell me what you mean or I’m marching off and you can go jump in the lake for all I care.”

“Jace.” The red fox pointed a finger at himself. “Do I not seem odd to you?”

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. “You’re being weird right now, I’ll give you that.”

“Not that, do I not talk a little differently? My clothes a little strange?” He reached into his pockets and turned them inside out. Nothing. He patted his back pockets. No wallet. No phone. No keys.

My mind reeled at the implications, and while I was processing it, Theo continued to talk. “I never got to experience my own life either, Jace.”

The look on his face was so sad, so pained, as he looked down at his hands folded in his lap. By now the sun had started to set and the sky had become awash in oranges and yellows, as if the very heavens had been lit on fire in a kaleidoscope of colors.

“You’re pulling my tail…” I said softly, chuckling. “There’s no way…”

“Jace,” Theo looked up at me with tired-looking eyes, now seeming to glow brighter than before. “I died in 1955.”

Southerly wind blew through the forest, making the leaves rustle louder as the world seemed to fall into silence around us.

I gulped. “Does that mean…you’re a ghost?”

Theo shook his head and motioned to the lake. “If I could explain it to you, I would. Every year for about a week, at the end of summer, this place lights up like a beacon. And that’s when I find myself here. I can’t leave—if I try, I end up vanishing until next year’s festival, when I find myself at the same location where I started the year before. But while I’m here, in the amount of time that I’m allowed, I want to eat and sleep like any mortal. For now, I’m as solid as you are…I feel alive.”

“But…you’re dead.”

Theo nodded, slowly. “I was on my way here when I was run off the road. My car fell into a ravine not fifty miles from here. I remember thinking that I had been so close to reaching the place where I could truly call home, but…there was a guy I had flirted with back in Cincinnati, and I guess he was following me the entire time and took his opportunity. Next thing I know, I was sitting on a picnic bench, a year after the incident, not knowing how I got there.”

“If that’s true,” I asked, “how come no one says anything? Not even a rumor here and there?”

“I’m not the only one who gets to ‘come back,’ as it were. There’s a group of us—people who died unfulfilled. All of us missed out on something, and so…either to torment us or reward us—I’ve not been able to figure out which—something lets us walk this beautiful lake for a few days, meet kind people, and just…live again. But it’s always fleeting. We try to not talk to locals because we must see them grow old while we don’t seem to age. That’s what happened with your grandfather and Jerry.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because, Jace, you are so young.” Theo turned to me and took my hands. They were warm, like an actual living breathing being, like me. “And the only thing really holding you back is you. You want to know what it’s like to be in queer society? To be with gay friends? You have to put yourself out there. Please. I may be an old soul, but you must trust me when I say that you are a wonderful young coyote with so much kindness and potential. If you don’t let people see you, however, you’ll never be seen.”

I looked at his hands, and then at his face. His eyes bore into mine. “You’re really not lying to me right now, are you?”

Theo shook his head fervently. “Everything I’ve told you is the truth, Jace. But it’s up to you to believe me and act on it. I know it’s scary, and it’s difficult, and you’ve had a really bad few years…but life is not going to change just because you want it to. You need to make your dream a reality. You’re going to make mistakes, sure, but they’re going to make you a better person because you’re someone who can learn from your mistakes. Please…do this, and come back next year to tell me all about the life you built. I’ll be here—I’ll always be here—looking forward to all the stories you have to tell.”

“Theo, I…”

I looked away from the red fox, unable to stare at him. This was so raw, so emotional, that it was difficult to process.

“Jace,” he said softly, “you deserve to be seen. To be loved. You just need to move past the thing holding you back.”

“But I—”

When I turned back, he was gone. He didn’t walk away. No, he was just gone. I swallowed and looked at the lake, now glowing under the moonlight after the sun has vanished beyond the horizon.

And I smiled.

---

The night of the Lantern Festival arrived quietly, like the settling of dusk itself. The town came to life, with soft music playing from porches, laughter drifting through the air, and families, couples, and solo wanderers gathering along the lake with paper lanterns in their hands.

I held mine close.

The lantern itself was a simple one, made of rice paper stretched over a thin wooden frame, with a tiny candle nestled at its heart. Inside, written in my neatest handwriting, was a message I hadn’t dared to say aloud until now:

"I want to stop surviving and start living. I want to be seen. Truly seen."

I stepped down to the edge of the lake, the cool water brushing my toes through my sandals. I was the only coyote in the crowd, but I didn’t feel like an outsider. Around me, others began to lower their lanterns into the water, lighting them one by one. The lake sparkled to life—a constellation born of hope and memory.

I lit mine. The flame initially flickered uncertainly but then steadied. I whispered goodbye to my doubts, to my fear, and let go.

The lantern drifted out among the others, its little flame joining the dance.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" a red fox said beside me.

It was Theo. He looked as he always had—calm and composed, with a glimmer of something eternal in his eyes. I didn’t question how he’d found me. Not anymore.

"You came back," I said, making sure no one else could hear us.

He grinned with a shrug. "I always do. For now, at least."

We stood in silence, watching the lights ripple and glide across the dark water. Some people cried. Some laughed. Some held hands with the ones they loved.

"I wrote it," I said.

"And let it go," Theo replied. "That’s the first step."

"I think I’m ready to try. To actually…live."

Theo looked at me with something like pride. "Good. Then maybe next time I see you, you’ll have stories. Friends. Maybe even love."

The fox held out his hand. I took it. The hand was still warm, but it felt more faint, more distant.

"I wish we had more time," I said.

"We all do," he said with a wink. "But sometimes, a spark is all it takes."

As the lanterns drifted farther into the lake, Theo began to glow faintly, like he was becoming one of them—light on water.

"Tell someone your story," he said, his voice seeming to fade into an echo of itself. "Live it first, then share it."

And then he was gone. No sound. No flash. Just absence.

I stared at the lake, my breath fogging gently in the cooling air. My lantern still floated near the center, its flame steady.

Somewhere behind me, the band began playing softly. People swayed, danced, and laughed. I turned toward them.

And this time, I walked forward.

I passed food stalls and familiar faces. I saw neighbors from earlier in the week chatting under hanging lights, kids playing tag between rows of folding chairs. Music floated through the air like mist.

Near the edge of the green, I spotted a group of guys my age clustered around a drink table, talking and laughing like they’d known each other forever. A few of them wore pride pins and rainbow bracelets.

My chest tightened.

I almost kept walking.

But I didn’t.

I made my way over, one foot in front of the other.

“Hey,” I said, my voice barely above the music. “I’m Jace.”

A tall fox in a varsity jacket turned and smiled. “Hey, Jace. I’m Riley.”

Another guy—shorter, with kind eyes and a mug of cider—offered a little wave. “Micah. You here for the first time?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Just… trying something new.”

“Well, you picked a good night for it,” Riley said. “You like cider?”

“I do,” I said, grinning. “And, uh, Micah—your jacket is awesome, by the way. Love the patches.”

Micah lit up. “Thanks! Made most of them myself.”

“Seriously?” I asked, stepping in a little closer. “That’s really cool.”

“Come hang out with us,” Riley offered, gesturing to an open chair. “We’ve got stories and bad jokes to share.”

I took the seat.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I was on the outside looking in.

I was here.

Living.