Ella
The moment we entered my childhood bedroom, an overwhelming sense of nostalgia washed over me.
Nothing had changed since I last lived here—literally. I hadn’t lived in this penthouse since before college, and yet my parents never changed a thing.
Band posters were still tacked to the walls, their colors somewhat faded but nonetheless holding the spirit and angst of my teenage years. Stacks of old novels, their spines well-worn from my anxious fingers, lined the bookshelf. Even my vanity was still covered with haphazard jewelry and makeup from my ‘emo’ days.
I felt exposed, as if Logan was unwittingly peering into a window of my past life. It was funny, how this room felt perfectly normal to me. But now that someone else was here, in my teenage self’s space, it suddenly felt cri
