#counterfcits

Asher stood in the middle of the street, yelling at the top of his lungs as people walked by, some giving him curious glances. He felt an overwhelming surge of energy, unsure how to channel it other than through this wild outburst. He glanced over at Arden, a mix of amusement and frustration on his face.

"Maybe we should do something a bit more productive with our day off than just screaming in the streets, huh?" he suggested, his voice still tinged with excitement.

Asher pushed open the door to Rhythm Realm, the familiar chime of the bell above echoing through the shop. It had been a while since he'd been here—not just physically, but mentally. The place looked the same as always, yet it felt a little different, like it had been waiting for him to return. The faint scent of vinyl and wood polish greeted him, along with the sunlight streaming through the front windows, bouncing off the rows of colorful album covers on display.

He slung his bag onto the counter and leaned over it, drumming his fingers in a familiar rhythm. It felt good to be back, even if the nerves still lingered beneath his easygoing demeanor. He glanced at the “Staff Picks” section, cringing slightly at the outdated selections from his last shift. “Alright, first order of business—these gotta go,” he muttered to himself, grabbing a stack of albums to swap out.

It didn’t take long before his fingers found their rhythm, flicking through records and rearranging shelves. Every now and then, he hummed along to the track playing over the shop's speakers—a vintage Stevie Wonder tune that perfectly matched the mid-morning energy.

As the door chime jingled again, Asher glanced up, flashing a grin at the person walking in. “Morning! Let me know if you need help finding anything. Or, you know, just need some top-tier life advice from your friendly neighborhood music guru.” It wasn’t just the music store getting back into its groove—Asher was finding his, too. Slowly but surely.

Emily’s apartment was bathed in the soft glow of string lights, their warm hues bouncing off the eclectic mix of plants and knick-knacks that lined her shelves. The living room was cozy, with a plush couch piled high with mismatched throw pillows and a coffee table littered with snacks—chips, candy, and an oversized bowl of popcorn taking center stage.

On the TV, the over-the-top intro to some dating reality show blared, complete with dramatic slow-motion shots of contestants strutting across a sandy beach. Emily sat cross-legged on the couch, clutching a pillow as she popped a gummy bear into her mouth, her eyes glued to the screen.

“Okay, pause,” she said, holding up a hand as she grabbed the remote. She hit the pause button just as one contestant threw a drink in another’s face. “Can we just talk about this outfit for a second? Who wears heels that high to a beach fight?” She turned to her friend with a wide grin, tossing the remote to the side. “Your turn to pick a snack. But only if you explain what you’d do if someone pulled that move on you.”

Deciding to take the day off, Sam leisurely headed to Eternal Petals, hoping to see a certain florist he had known for years. During his summer visits as a teenager, he had always been infatuated with Selin. Over time, as Selin became even more beautiful, Sam's harmless flirting turned into more, even after he learned about her engagement.

Entering the shop, Sam pretended to browse the flowers, his eyes subtly searching for Selin. Spotting her near the tulips, he moved closer but kept a respectful distance. "I'm looking for some flowers," he began with a sweet smile. "For my aunt." He inched a bit closer, pretending to examine a flower in front of her. As he reached for it, his fingers intentionally brushed against hers in a lingering, suggestive touch. "Do you think she might like this one?"