L'amour (e.c)

The air in Forks, Washington, hung heavy with the promise of perpetual rain, a familiar blanket over the small town. Inside Forks High, the usual morning chaos buzzed, lockers clanging, voices overlapping in a symphony of adolescent energy.

Suddenly, a scent, like sun-warmed cherries, began to drift through the crowded hallway, followed by the rhythmic click of heels. Conversations died. Heads swiveled. A hush fell, broken only by the approaching sound, as if an invisible wave had swept through the student body, silencing them one by one.

Then, she appeared. Charlotte Olivia Smith, a vision in a short satin pink skirt and a blue lace bodysuit, moved with an almost ethereal grace, her red waves cascading down her back. Every eye was on her, mesmerized by a beauty so profound it seemed almost otherworldly. She walked as if on a runway, oblivious or indifferent to the stunned stares, her confidence a tangible aura.

She reached the main office, the same hush following her, even the busy receptionist momentarily frozen. “Hello,” Charlotte’s voice was soft, delicate, yet it commanded attention. She tilted her head, her red hair bouncing as she confirmed her identity and purpose: to collect her timetable.

As Charlotte exited the office, the whispers began, a low hum of speculation and awe that spread like wildfire through the school. Her name, her arrival, her beauty—it was all anyone could talk about, a new, intoxicating topic for the ever-hungry Forks gossip mill.