Cosmo.L

Pelican Town in early spring hadn’t changed much. If anything, it felt like a page from an old story someone kept reading without realizing it was dog-eared. The air was crisp and damp, tinged with salt from the ocean beyond the hills and the earthy promise of thawing soil. The last clumps of dirty snow clung to the bases of the trees and edges of the sidewalks, melting reluctantly into slush. Crocuses and daffodils were starting to poke up along the sides of the square. Someone had planted them years ago, and they’d survived through sheer stubbornness.

Most likely, Evelyn.

Pierre’s General Store loomed ahead, just as she remembered it. Sturdy wood paneling covered the facade, painted in a faded cobalt blue with white trim. A big bay window on the front had a hand-lettered Fresh Produce Weekly! sign swinging from a string. There were baskets of seed packets stacked outside, already slightly damp from the morning dew. A chalkboard next to the door read: Spring Specials–10% Off Saplings & Salve! Beneath it, a smiley face that had mostly smudged into a blob.

Parked in front of all of that history was a truck that looked like it had driven straight out of a country song. She spotted the old maroon truck immediately. It looked like duct tape held it together, and she could have sworn she smelled engine oil before she saw the driver.

“Seriously?” Sadie muttered aloud. “They still let that thing run?”

It sputtered like it heard her, then the door swung open.

Alex jumped down from the driver’s seat and she swore for a second the chilly breeze had nothing to do with the goosebumps prickling along her arms. He looked like every woman’s favorite regret. He had short brown hair that looked uncombed, mischievous sparkling green eyes, and a grin that likely ruined lives within a five-mile radius. He wore a white T-shirt that fit too well, jeans that hugged his thighs, and his signature green hoodie zipped halfway over his chest. He looked nothing like the 14-year-old she remembered. And God help her, he was smirking already.

“Holy hell,” she muttered under her breath. She didn’t realize she was staring.

He laughed, slamming the door, making the truck shake.

“Y-You look different…” she stuttered. The words couldn't find their way to her mouth.

“Well, I’d hope so.” Alex stretched lazily, his eyes scanning her with exaggerated judgment.

“And look at you, Big City Sadie. Did Mr. Joja CEO give you that coat?”

“It’s merino wool, thank you very much, and no, I bought it myself,” she gripped her suitcase handle tightly.

“So fancy,” he teased, stepping forward to pull her into a brief but warm hug. “You smell like expensive lotion and disappointment.”

“You still smell like Axe body spray and unresolved trauma.”

“Damn,” he laughed as he took her suitcase like it weighed nothing and heaved it into the truck bed. “Still sharp, I like it.”

The truck groaned as they pulled out of downtown and headed through the winding back roads toward the Palmer Farms property. The drive through town was slow and full of awkward nostalgia. They passed by buildings like old classmates. Half of them seemed unchanged, the others looked a little rough around the edges. The old Saloon still had its swinging sign and chipping paint. The schoolhouse bell rang as they passed, faint and far away. Sadie thoughtfully remembered when there was no schoolhouse. Town kids would just be tutored in the library.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” he said casually, eyes still on the road. “Still, looking like you’re calculating ROI on my entire personality.”

She laughed, “I wouldn’t have guessed you even knew what ROI was.”

“Rude.”

There was a comfortable tension in the silence that followed, punctuated by bursts of laughter as they slipped into old stories. Summer lemonade stands, fourth of July fireworks, and her epic wipeout on a rusted old bike. The one he swore he warned her about.

“Still blame me for that scar on your knee?” He asked, smirking.

“Absolutely.”

“You know, you were the only girl in town who could actually beat me at tetherball.”

“Only because you kept hitting your damn face.”

He snorted.

They turned onto a familiar old dirt road, her heart gave a nervous little jump. Trees started to thin, then there it stood. When she saw the house, her chest ached. The house came into view like an old photo she’d forgotten she still had. It looked sad and tired, almost like time had tried to erase it.

The once-pristine white panels were yellowing and weather-stained. The shutters hung crookedly; some were even missing entirely. Tall grass reached hungrily toward the porch steps. Weeds had overtaken the gravel walkway, and the swing on the front porch dangled with one chain broken.

Sadie slowly pressed a hand to her mouth. Alex pulled the truck to a gentle stop and killed the engine.

“Yeah…” he said quietly. “He got real sick, real fast. Cancer, I think. Robin and Ms. Marnie did what they could, but between their work and trying to help him, it just… kind of got away from them.”

Sadie opened the door and stepped into the driveway. The air was cooler here and carried the smell of old leaves, pine bark, and damp earth. A bird chirped somewhere off in the distance. Her boots sank a little in the softened dirt as she walked toward the house. It felt like it loomed over her. Crooked, but still standing. A breeze carried the faint scent of salt and wildflowers somewhere deep inside her chest. This was hers now. For better or worse.

“Welcome home,” Alex said softly.

The porch groaned under Sadie’s weight as she stepped up to the front door. The paint was peeling here too, curling like the pages of a book left in the sun. She hesitated before the threshold and glanced to her right. There he was. Still standing guard after all these years.

A short ceramic gnome with a chipped red hat and a mischievous grin stood half obscured by grass. His googly eyes were stuck permanently askew from years of rain and mischief. She crouched down, lifted him slightly, and found the familiar silver key taped underneath. The old, yellowing tape still wrapped it, and rust still covered its teeth.

“Of course,” she muttered with a fond huff.

“Security at its finest,” Alex said behind her, arms crossed, leaning against the porch beam.

The key scraped as it turned in the lock. The red door creaking open with a long sigh. Dust danced in the slant of afternoon light that cut across the old wooden floor. The house smelled of cedar and age, laced with something faintly sweet. Her boots left faint prints in the film of dust coating the entryway as she stepped inside. It was exactly as she remembered. Just older and dimmer.

The living room opened to the right, where a sagging couch once sat beneath the front window, now only a simple wooden table and a pair of mismatched chairs, remained. A tiny old television sat crookedly on a low console, the kind with manual dials and fake wood paneling. Wallpaper was peeling in long, curling strips along the hallway. Her grandfather had scratched at parts of it, as though he had started to remove it but never finished.

“It’s like a time capsule in here,” she murmured.

Alex stepped in behind her and closed the door gently. “Yeah. He didn’t really touch anything over the years.”

She wandered through the main room, fingertips trailing over the dusty surface of the table. A single envelope sat there, crisp and out of place. She picked it up and opened it.

She folded the letter and tucked it into her coat pocket.

“Well,” she said softly, “guess that’s what I’ll be doing this week.”

“Want me to come with you?”

She gave him a quick smile. “Are you offering to be my emotional support jock?”

Alex grinned, “Depends, will I get snacks out of it?”

She chuckled under her breath and made her way toward the stairs. They creaked exactly the same way they used to. Low and moaning, like old bones complaining about the weather. Her room was at the end of the hall. The door still had the star-shaped sticker she’d put on it as a kid, now faded and curled at the corners. She pushed it open slowly, parting the hanging door beads, half expecting to find her childhood self sitting on the bed reading a Teen Vogue magazine.

Her room was small and mostly empty. But her old twin bed was still there, tucked into the far corner. Time had faded the quilt her grandmother made her from blue to near gray. The dresser stood beneath the window, its mirror spotted and cloudy. The curtains drawn back, let spring light spill across the floor in a soft golden haze. Alex glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Something unreadable shifted behind his eyes.

“It’s smaller than I remember,” she said.

“You’re taller than you were,” Alex offered, following her in and setting her suitcase down gently by the dresser.

She sat on the edge of the bed as the springs squeaked underneath. “It’s weird, you know? I didn’t grow up here, not really. But it still feels like… pieces of me live in these walls.”

Alex leaned against the doorframe of her room with his arms crossed. “You spent every summer in P.T. until you were in like 10th grade. That counts as growing up here.”

She didn’t answer, just looked around the room with a quiet expression. Dust motes turned in the light. A robin chirped outside her window.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asked after a pause.

“I think so,” she said. “Just… need to see it all and let it settle.”

He nodded. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here.”

Her lips twitched into a small smile. “Thanks, Alex.”

“You hungry?” He asked, pushing off the doorframe. “We can go to the diner for a bit. Don’t ask me to pay though, I can only afford to get you a grilled cheese.”

She laughed, “Grilled cheese sounds perfect.”

The diner sat tucked between the library and the old post office like it had always belonged there, even though Sadie was sure it hadn’t existed when she last set foot in town. A silver-lettered sign above the door read “Stella’s Diner” in looping cursive. A striped red-and-white awning fluttered over the wide front windows. The intoxicating scent of sizzling butter and brewed coffee spilled out every time the door opened. Inside, it looked like something out of a 1950s postcard. Red vinyl booths, chrome accents, a jukebox in the corner. The kind of place where the waitstaff called you “hon” and the pancakes were bigger than your face.

“Definitely wasn’t here when I was a kid,” Sadie remarked, letting the door swing shut behind her.

“It’s about five years old,” Alex said. “People were real suspicious of it at first, but now try taking away Ms. Violet’s cinnamon rolls and there’ll be a riot on Main.”

A short woman in her sixties with blue glasses and a cloud of permed white hair waved them toward a booth near the window. Alex pointed at her with a grin.

“That’s Ms. Violet. Don’t let the smile fool you, she’ll throw hands if you insult her food.”

Sadie slid into the booth, folding her coat neatly beside her. She let her fingers rest on the cool chrome edge of the table, it felt a little surreal. Familiar and foreign all at once. She glanced out the window at the square, then back at the cracked leather menu.

“Wait—Sadie Palmer? Is that you?”

Sadie looked up to see a tall young man with blonde hair and a skateboard clipped to his backpack.

Sam.

He hadn’t changed much. A little taller, a little leaner, with facial hair that looked like it came and went depending on the season. Beside him was Abigail, with colored hair swept back into a messy braid. Sadie remembered she used to dye it purple. Now it was more of a dark teal. Her eyeliner, still perfectly smudged in a smoky black, was a stark contrast to the casual, slightly rumpled jacket she wore. Hanging back a few steps behind them was Sebastian. The usual black hoodie zipped to the neck with hands in his pockets.

Sadie blinked in surprise. “Hi?”

“Holy shit, it’s really you!” Sam leaned on the edge of the booth, grinning. “Wow, I haven’t seen you since—god, what? You were still in braces.”

“She never had braces, you idiot, that was me,” Abigail smirked, nudging him.

“You didn’t?” Sam looked confused. “Huh.”

“Hi Sadie! I’ve missed you so much.” She bent down to give her a quick hug. “Can we sit with you guys?” Abigail asked, already sliding into the spot beside her without waiting for a yes. “It’s not every day someone comes back from the Joja Mothership.”

Alex chuckled as he scooted over to make room. “It’s like watching someone reintroduce an animal to its native habitat, right?”

“Thanks,” Sadie rolled her eyes. “Glad to be everyone’s local cryptid again.”

Sebastian slid into the booth’s edge without a word, nodding toward her with a soft smile in his usual quiet way.

“Seriously though,” Sam said, “What brings you back? Thought you’d escaped the small town curse! I’ve been trying to leave this hellhole for years.”

Sadie hesitated, fingers drumming once against her mug of water. “Inheritance stuff. My pop’s old place. Just sorting it out for now.”

“You staying long?” Abigail asked, eyebrow raised.

“That’s… undecided.”

“You’ll love the diner breakfasts,” Sam exclaimed, pointing to the menu. “Everything tastes like love and butter.”

“She’s not wrong,” Alex muttered, and leaned toward Sadie to whisper, “Just don’t order the tuna melt.”

“I heard that, Alex!” Ms. Violet called out from the bar counter.

“See?” Alex grinned. “She has ears everywhere.”

Sadie let out a small laugh, the tension in her shoulders finally starting to ease. The fog of travel, grief, and doubt hadn’t lifted entirely, but this? A table full of half-familiar faces, laughter, and warmth felt like a beginning.

After the diner, Alex drove her back through town as the sun dipped low behind the hills, casting long golden streaks across the road. They didn’t talk much this time. The radio played some classic song with steel guitar and wistful lyrics filling the space between them. Sadie let herself watch the town roll by through the window. When the truck came to a stop in the gravel drive, Alex cut the engine and turned to her.

“Are you sure you’re good? Don’t lie to me, Adi, I’ll know.” He asked, brows lifted.

Sadie gave a tired smile. “Yeah. I just… need to be alone for a little while.”

He nodded, then stepped out to grab her leftover food from the backseat. When she rounded the truck, he handed her the bag and pulled her into a brief but firm hug.

“Text me if the walls start talking or something,” he said into her hair. “I’ll come punch a ghost.”

She snorted. “Thanks.”

He stepped back, gave her a wink, then climbed into the truck. The engine sputtered like it wasn’t in the mood to leave. As the truck rolled down the drive, Alex gripped the steering wheel tighter. She was really back. After all this time. Every year he’d figure the memory of her would fade like the pictures in Evelyn’s hallway, but there she was. Same Sadie, just older. A little more tired in her eyes, maybe, but still hers. He smiled to himself, then shook his head.

It was stupid how fast the memories had come rushing in. The bonfires and bike rides highlighted with stupid dares. The way her laugh cracked wide open when he said a dumb joke. How sometimes they'd sit too close on the dock and pretend it meant nothing. But it had meant something. At least to him. They never named it, and maybe that was the problem.

And then, she was just gone. No solid goodbye except for a half-hearted note. Just vanished like a summer storm.

He didn’t know what he expected now. She was here, and it made him happy in a way that unsettled him. Like the ground had shifted beneath the farm and no one had warned him. Part of him hoped she'd stay. The other part wasn’t sure if his heart could take it.

Back at the house, Sadie stood for a long moment on the porch, bag in hand, watching the last light slip away behind the tree line. She turned, unlocking the door, and stepped into the quiet of the house. It felt heavier without Alex. Like the air had settled back into old memories as she slowly explored.

The kitchen was outdated for sure, but still functional. Copper-bottom pans still hung from the wall, and there was a dent in the linoleum where the old stool used to wobble. A door beside the pantry opened into a small room she hadn’t remembered clearly. It was a lined wall covered with shelves sagging under the weight of dusty books.

She stepped in and brushed her fingers over the cracked spines. ”The Farmer’s Almanac” ”Mushroom Cultivation in Coastal Climates” ”Weathering Tools and Weathering Storms: A Memoir” Most of them looked well read. Some had her grandfather’s scrawl in the margins with personal notes, and diagrams of crop layouts. Downstairs, the basement was cool and smelled faintly of cedar. The stairs groaned beneath her weight as she descended into the dimness, turning on an overhead bulb with a buzz.

The basement was a museum of her late grandparent’s lives. Stacked boxes litered the space. She crouched by a familiar trunk, the faded floral print peeling along the edges. When she opened it, the hinges groaned like they were waking up, disturbed from their sleep. Inside were stacks of things that felt like her childhood frozen in time. Construction paper crafts, seashell necklaces, and a tin of half-dried watercolor pans.

And then she saw it. A journal—neon pink, with shimmering Lisa Frank dolphins leaping over a rainbow. She let out a short, stunned laugh.

“No way…”

She unlocked the clasp and flipped it open. Her own handwriting stared back at her, chaotically wide looped, scrawled in glitter pen.

“At least I know my handwriting has improved.” Sadie smiled softly as she flipped through the lined heart print pages. Page after page detailed drama between friends, swimming at the beach, and bonfire nights behind Sam’s house. A particular page caused her to pause.

Her heart stuttered. Adi was the nickname he gave her. He even called her that before he left today. Woven through all the pages was Alex. He seemed to always be mentioned somehow, and he always felt like something more than what they pretended to be. It struck her like a sudden breeze through a closed window. That little girl, her heart a whirlwind of uncertainty and hope, was so sure, so full of tangled feelings and big emotions. She’d already known. Maybe not the depth, or even what it meant at the time, but she’d felt it genuinely.

And then she’d left without a goodbye. It wasn’t that she wanted it to be that way. He was just away for a game, the week she was moving. She couldn’t really do anything about it, so she left a note with Evelyn.

Sadie swallowed hard and closed the journal gently, her fingers brushed the raised dolphin sticker on the front. She slipped it back into the trunk and shut the lid like she was putting something precious back to bed. A yellowed photo album with curled edges lay half-open on a crate. She brushed the dust away and saw her mother’s smile looking up at her, younger than Sadie was now. Happy among the sunflowers. She didn't speak much to her parents. The divorce tore them apart and was partly why she stayed at her grandparents’ in the first place. The bad memories of those years cushioned against the good ones made in the valley made her heart sink.

She found a trunk in the corner. Inside, gardening gloves greeted her. Faded seed packets blanketed over a folded apron embroidered with the name “Charles Palmer.” Her grandfather’s.

Grief mixing with the nostalgia braided together so tightly she couldn’t separate them and felt difficulty breathing. She closed the trunk gently and exhaled. That night, she slept in her childhood bed, curled beneath the faded quilt. She dreamed of spring rains and someone calling her name from across a field.

The next morning, Alex was waiting out front, this time with two mugs in hand and some sunglasses sitting on top of his head.

“You look like you got hit by a freight train,” Alex remarked as she approached. He offered her a travel mug.

“Good morning, to you too, I guess,” she grumbled, accepting the coffee. “Is this my sympathy, coffee?”

“I’m your chauffeur today,” he bowed slightly, with a flourish.

The ride into town was brighter this time. The sun slanted through the windshield, little patches of green growing braver on the bare trees.

“Oh, by the way,” Alex said, glancing at her sideways. “Spring Flower Dance is next weekend. You sticking around long enough for that?”

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s still a thing?”

“Oh yeah. Sam tried to turn it into something similar to Warped Tour last year. Mayor Lewis almost had a coronary.”

Sadie laughed. “I’ll think about it.”

The attorney’s office, Willow & Finch, was tucked into a narrow red-brick building downtown with frosted windows and a gold-lettered door. Inside, it smelled like wood polish and paper. The meeting was simple for the most part. The only thing asked of her was signatures. They covered disclaimers and a rundown of the estate assets. Nothing shocking, just heavy. She was still given until Friday to decide if she wanted to sell or keep the property in her name. By the time she stepped back outside, her head felt stuffed with paperwork and emotions. She barely registered the curb until her foot caught and twisted.

“Shit—!”

Her foot slipped out from under her, and she cried out as her ankle bent painfully sideways. Before she hit the pavement, the coffee cup went flying as Alex caught her with one arm around her back.

“You okay?” He asked, voice tight.

“No…” she hissed, squeezing her eyes shut. “Ankle. Something…popped.”

Without hesitation, he adjusted his grip and hoisted her against his chest like she weighed nothing. She groaned. “This is humiliating.”

"No worries, Doc is just down the way."

The clinic sat just down the block. It was white shingled and neat, with a little garden of medicinal herbs tucked under the windows. Alex pushed through the door with his shoulder and Sadie on his back. The bell above jingled. Inside, the space was quiet and warmly lit. A faint scent of antiseptic mixed with lemon balm filled the waiting room. Sadie barely had time to look around before someone stood up from behind the check-in desk.

“Whoa, need a hand there?” Said the woman in scrubs, walking around the counter. Her bob bounced as she moved. Her short, dark hair was tucked behind her ears held up by her glasses.

“She twisted her ankle,” Alex said. “We were leaving the attorney’s office, and the sidewalk won.”

Sadie gave a tight smile. “Thanks for the recap…”

“Well, you’ve got good reflexes, Alex,” the woman said to him with a grin. Suddenly, her face lit up with recognition. “Oh, my God—Sadie Palmer? Do you remember me? I’m Maru! I still help out here a few days a week. My parents are the ones with the research lab up north. Anyway, let’s get you checked in. It's so good to see you again!”

Sadie was starting to not like all this attention everywhere she went. In such a small town, perhaps it was inevitable. Maru grabbed a clipboard, scribbled something quickly, and handed it to Sadie. “Just need a signature and a few questions answered.”

Alex set her gently on the padded bench near the exam room door. Maru knelt to examine the ankle while Sadie filled out the top of the form.

“Girl, that’s a nasty sprain,” Maru muttered sympathetically, glancing up. “I’ll go grab Dr. Harvey! He came on staff a few years after you left. You’re in good hands, he’s the best.”

She disappeared with her soft footsteps fading down the hall. A moment later, another set approached.

He appeared in the doorway, clipboard tucked under one arm, broad shoulders framed by a dark sweater vest beneath his white coat. Round glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, drawing attention to warm brown eyes and a neatly trimmed beard that matched the light brown of his hair which was brushed back. He pushed back a single, stubborn lock with practiced ease. Dr. Harvey’s presence was quiet but steady, like a well-read book with something hidden between the lines.

Sadie swallowed, blinking as he stepped closer.

After a quiet clearing of his throat, he crouched beside her. “Miss Sadie Palmer?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Right, that’s me,” she managed, laughing nervously. She was trying her best not to sound as flustered as she felt.

“I’m Dr. Harvey McClellon. I’ll be taking care of you today—may I?”

He nodded toward her ankle. She gave a quick, silent nod in return. Alex, mercifully, was distracted by the superhero wallpaper. Meanwhile, Harvey’s hands were warm and steady as he touched her ankle, tilting it gently in examination.

“Maru’s correct, it’s a classic lateral sprain. I’ll wrap it and get you some ice. You’ll want to stay off it for a few days, Miss. Palmer. Don’t do anything too dramatic, and you should be fine. I’ll set you up with a crutch.”

“She always was a bit dramatic,” Alex quipped, earning him a dirty look.

Dr. Harvey smiled faintly and stood. “Welcome to Pelican Town, Miss Palmer. Even if it’s under slightly painful circumstances.”

“Thanks,” she murmured with a slight flush.

He moved with quiet efficiency, wrapping her ankle, while Maru returned with a small bag of ice and a crutch. The two of them worked like a well-oiled machine, Dr. Harvey calm and focused, Nurse Maru quick with clever remarks and small comforts.

“You’re in luck,” Alex said as Maru handed over the crutch. “They just restocked dignity, so you get to keep some.”

Sadie laughed. “Thank god. I was running dangerously low.”

Once everything felt secure, Dr. Harvey stepped back and met her eyes with a furrowed brow of concern. “If it gets worse, or the swelling doesn’t go down in a few days, come back in and see me. No need to tough it out.” When he smiled, it felt genuine. She wondered how many people in this town had quietly fallen for the doctor over nothing more than his smile. There was also a strange hypnotic quality to his low, steady tone of voice that caused her to hesitate.

“52 Weeks, 52 Tropes: A Year of Senhaku”

(AKA: The One Where We Totally Lose Our Minds in the Name of Science and Romance.)

Here’s the mission:

Each week, you write a one-shot, drabble, scene, or experimental chaos piece featuring our favorite science gremlin and jungle queen, based on a specific trope. One fic. Every week. For a year. 52 tropes. 52 Senhaku moments. That’s 52 chances to make us cry, swoon, and scream into the void.

Examples of Tropes to get your BRAIN ENGINEERING:

🌑Enemies to Lovers (classic)

🌑Fake Dating (yes please)

🌑Only One Bed (you know this one's a banger)

🌑Time Travel

🌑Soulmates with a Twist

🌑Accidental Love Confession

🌑Hurt/Comfort but Make it Science

🌑“Oh no, they’re HOT”

You can go canon, AU, modern, prehistoric, SPACE? Go nuts. Build a timeline. Or don’t. Tie them together or keep ‘em separate. You do you, boo.

Want extra chaos?

🌑Shuffle your playlist and use the first lyric you hear as the title.

🌑Make it ✨seasonal✨. Senhaku Halloween? I dare you.

There are no losers. Only fanfic heroes. And I believe in you.

Let’s fill the fandom with serotonin and suffering—the good kind.

#Senhaku52Challenge

LET’S. DO. THIS.