A Nice Girl Like You -

The Midnight Gallery was not a museum; it was a sanctuary of "lost things." The air smelled of rain and old paper. Inside, a man with ink-stained fingers and a crooked tie looked up from a desk. "You’re late," he said, not unkindly.

She leaned over the desk and wrote: Today, I decided to be difficult. A Nice Girl Like You

"There is no Wickham Lane in Oakhaven," Lucy muttered, her thumb tracing the embossed gold on the journal cover. The Midnight Gallery was not a museum; it

"Is that what you want to be?" Julian asked. "Or is that just the easiest thing to be?" She leaned over the desk and wrote: Today,

A neighbor passed by and smiled. "Evening, Lucy! Such a nice girl."

"That's the 'Not-So-Nice' Lucy," Julian whispered. "The one who speaks her mind. The one who takes the promotion in London. The one who stops apologizing for taking up space."