Storms Over Tree Hill

you're gonna have to find out who is endgame

The first thing Melinda noticed about Tree Hill was how the town seemed to breathe.

It wasn't like the city she came from - all sharp edges and endless noise. Tree Hill moved slower, softer, like it had nothing to prove. The trees arched over the old streets like cathedral ceilings, the scent of wet earth and pine threading through the late afternoon air.

Her boots crunched against the cracked sidewalk as she made her way toward the high school, hoodie pulled tight around her shoulders to block out the stubborn chill of early spring.

The sky overhead was smeared gray, the kind of color that made you want to curl up inside and light a candle.
But Melinda liked days like this - heavy and uncertain.
They made her feel... less alone.