The crisp autumn air whispered through the trees, carrying with it the scent of fallen leaves and untold possibilities. Lottie Matthews stood before Laura Lee's house, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts, memories, and half-formed premonitions. Was it only yesterday that Laura Lee had extended the invitation? Or had it been weeks, months, years? Time seemed to blur, like the edges of a dream upon waking.
She stepped forward, her hand poised to knock, when suddenly—(was it a vision? A memory? A premonition?)—she saw herself, standing in this very spot, but older, wearier, her eyes haunted by secrets yet to be revealed. The image flickered and faded, leaving Lottie breathless and uncertain.
Laura Lee's voice floated through the air, warm and inviting. "Lottie! You came!" And there she was, radiant and pure, her faith a tangible thing that seemed to wrap around them both like a protective cloak.
They moved through the house, Laura Lee's chatter a comforting background noise to Lottie's swirling thoughts. Snacks appeared—(when had Laura Lee prepared them? Had they always been there?)—and Lottie found herself drawn into the warmth of Laura Lee's presence.
"Do you ever feel," Laura Lee's voice cut through the haze of Lottie's mind, "like there's something more out there? Something beyond what we can see?"
Lottie's heart quickened. Did she know? Could she sense the visions that plagued Lottie's dreams, the whispers of a future yet to come? "I—" she began, but the words caught in her throat. How could she explain the inexplicable? "Sometimes," she managed finally, her voice barely above a whisper, "I feel like there's something... waiting. Something that wants to be found."
Laura Lee's eyes shone with understanding, or was it merely the reflection of the television screen? "Maybe," she said softly, her hand brushing against Lottie's, sending shivers down her spine, "we're meant to find it together."
The night stretched on, a tapestry of moments woven together by laughter, whispered confidences, and lingering glances. And through it all, Lottie felt it—the pull of something greater, something that defied explanation or reason.
As the credits of the final movie rolled, Laura Lee turned to Lottie, her expression unreadable in the dim light. "Lottie," she breathed, "I've been thinking..."
And suddenly, Lottie knew. She saw it as clearly as if it had already happened—the kiss, the aftermath, the way it would change everything. She saw herself, years from now, standing in a forest clearing, her hands raised to the sky, Laura Lee's faith a distant memory.
"Yes," Lottie heard herself say, her voice steady despite the trembling of her heart. "Let's do it."
Their lips met, and for a moment, the world fell away. There was only this—the softness of Laura Lee's lips, the warmth of her breath, the promise of something more. And beneath it all, the whisper of the wilderness, calling Lottie's name.