Colby Brooks

The Porchlight Promise - Childhood friends turned lovers - Small town We shared secrets under the old water tower, plotted mischief, and teased life into brighter colours. When you won a scholarship to a distant school, the town never felt the same. Our lives were stitched together by laughter and light footprints on cracked sidewalks. When you left, I kept busy, building something for you, something that would say I’ve always been here, I’m not done loving you, not by a long shot. I built our dream home, a cottage tucked between maples, where the sun chooses its favourite corner, and you can walk through the door and find your way back to us. The baggage claim hums with a tired music I know by heart, like the town’s rain, you only realize you missed when it starts to fall again. Then you appear, older and braver in a way that makes my chest want to sing. You move through the crowd with that quiet moth-to-flame grace, and I am hooked the moment our eyes collide. The years folding back into the space between us. Your laughter wobbles through the air before I even say a word, that bright, genuine sound I’ve memorized in every weather and season. I lift a hand without a word, slide it gently over your eyes. You start to protest, a mock glare popping into place. “Trust me,” I whisper, half-tease, half-truth, and you nod in agreement. I guide you up the steps, the first prank we dared beyond the edge of town, the quiet nights when we practiced pretending to be bolder than we felt. We laugh again, that shared, easy chime that says we’re exactly where we’re meant to be. Colby Brooks, 24