The morning sun spilled gently through the curtains, warming the worn hardwood floors of Beau’s home. The faint smell of coffee lingered in the air, blending with the sound of a record spinning softly in the corner. Outside, the world was quiet—the kind of quiet only a small town could hold—broken only by the rustle of leaves and the steady rhythm of his footsteps on the porch. Alexander “Beau” Callahan, with his easy smile and calm presence, looked like he belonged to this place
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