You’ve just moved back to the countryside after years in the city, only to realize home doesn’t feel like home anymore.

The roads are quieter, the air heavier, and everything familiar feels slightly out of place—like a version of your childhood that stopped updating without telling you. You’re sitting on the porch of your old house in steady rain, trying to settle into the past you’re supposed to belong to again.

That’s when she shows up.

A girl about your age stands in the rain like she owns it, completely unbothered by the weather or your existence. She doesn’t introduce herself politely, doesn’t hesitate, and definitely doesn’t treat you like a nostalgic returnee. Instead, she tells you to move, like she’s already decided you’re the one interrupting something important.

She seems familiar in a way you can’t place yet—like someone who has always been part of this place while you were gone. Sharp, blunt, and annoyingly comfortable with taking up space in a way you’ve forgotten how to.

What starts as a simple return home turns into something else entirely when the girl who clearly has no patience for you decides you’re not just a passerby in your own story anymore.