A Nice Girl Like You -

Lucy wrapped the red scarf around her neck and smiled back, but this time, the smile didn't reach for permission.

She leaned over the desk and wrote: Today, I decided to be difficult.

Being a "nice girl," Lucy didn’t open the journal. She spent three hours researching the address. She discovered that Wickham Lane had been a hidden alleyway behind the old clock tower, sealed off since the 1920s. Against every logical instinct she possessed, Lucy didn’t call the post office. She took the brass key and walked toward the clock tower. A Nice Girl Like You

Julian handed her a fountain pen filled with shimmering violet ink. "Write the first sentence. And make sure it’s something you’ve never said out loud."

When Lucy walked out of the hidden alley, the sun was setting, turning the sky a chaotic, beautiful shade of orange. She didn't go home to prep her salad for Wednesday. Instead, she walked into the local boutique, bought the brightest red scarf they had, and booked a one-way flight to London on her phone while standing on the sidewalk. Lucy wrapped the red scarf around her neck

Lucy gripped the pen. She thought of her boss, who took credit for her work. She thought of her mother, who insisted she marry the local dentist. She thought of the beige walls of her apartment.

She found the entrance behind a rusted iron gate obscured by ivy. The key turned with a click that felt like a heartbeat. She spent three hours researching the address

He stepped toward a canvas covered in a black sheet and pulled it back. It wasn't a painting; it was a mirror, but the reflection wasn't beige. The Lucy in the glass wore a deep emerald coat. She was laughing. She was standing on a pier in a city Lucy didn’t recognize, holding a ticket to somewhere far beyond Oakhaven.