Not Crazy

Ellen sat in the backyard, her legs tucked beneath her as she nestled into the comfort of the cushioned wicker chair. The garden lights gave off a warm glow, lighting up the greenery and making soft shadows that moved with the breeze. A faint, floral scent lingered in the air, mingling with the fresh aroma of the plants, creating a serene atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the thoughts swirling in her mind.

In her hands, she held a book—a novel she'd picked up at the bookstore after that tense encounter with Gerald. She'd told herself that she needed something to distract her, a good story to lose herself in. But the words on the page were nothing more than a blur.

Her eyes skimmed over the lines, but her mind was elsewhere, replaying the events of the day. Ellen sighed, leaning back against the cushioned seat, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the book's cover.

Gerald, that man was really something.