Page 2 of Hope & Harmony

CHAPTER 1

ALEK

One Week Earlier

Her name's Hope, and seriously, she's a goddess out of my dreams.

I'm here again, sneaking glances at her between the chaos of the Pike Place Market crowd, feeling like a ghost.

Hope, on the other hand, is a vibrant, magnetic nymph holding court at "The Clock,” situated at the market’s entrance in front of the famous fish vendor. With a beat-up guitar cradled in her arms, she captivates everyone who passes by with her commanding presence and rich, emotive voice.

Effortlessly edgy, she rocks a faded and patched-up vintage denim jacket . Her jeans are ripped at the knees, with black tights peeking through. She stomps one sturdy boot, scuffed and worn, on the cobblestone street to the beat of the song.

I usually find myself here on my lunch hour. Her talent is unquestionable, but there’s something about the way she throws her whole self into her art. Like she's telling stories straight from her soul.

She's authentic. Stunning.

Out of my league.

I've memorized everything about her. How her eyes shut tight when she's reaching for those impossible notes. Or the way her hands effortlessly know their way around the strings of her guitar. When she sings, it's like she's weaving magic—every note, every word, feels like it's just for me.

Oh, how I want to know her. Like,reallyknow her.

Except, every time I eventhinkabout talking to her, I freeze. She's out here living her dream, confidently performing for thousands of people in the middle of the hustle, while I spend my day in a cubicle, coding away at Hungry Llama Games.

A faceless dude in the crowd who longs for a chance…

Except, what would I even say to her? "Hey, I think your music's awesome?"

Nah. I'd probably just trip over my words. Make a fool of myself.

She's everything I wish I could be confident, full of passion, totallyfree.

Hope wraps up her performance. People gather around, snapping pictures and dropping compliments. She navigates it all with ease, handing everyone who asks a slip of paper. Before I can talk myself out of it, I shuffle up to her and take one.

Hope flashes me a smile. Time stops for a second when she offers me an elegant business card withHope Kristiansenprinted in a swooshy script. There's also a phone number and a QR code.

I can't believe it. I've got her contact info.

Taking it from her dainty fingers, I ease into the crowd and return to work. Back at my desk, I scan the QR code like it's a treasure map. It leads to her bio, her busking schedule, and I learn she works as a bartender at The Mission, Seattle's hottest rock venue.

The thought of seeing her in a club vibe is both thrilling and terrifying.

What do I have to lose? Maybe it's time to drag my coding crew out and, for a change of pace, do a little peopling. If I step out of the shadows and move a bit closer to Hope's world, who knows?

It could be the start of something new. Or at least a break from the usual routine.

Either way, it's on.

CHAPTER 2

HOPE

Later That Night

The Mission is pulsing with life tonight, a mash-up of clinking glasses, laughter, and the low hum of excited conversations.

Lake Lyon, an up-and-coming alternative songwriter, is playing, so it’s packed. Every corner bursts at the seams with an eclectic mix of Seattle music fans celebrating the next big artist to break out of Seattle.

---