HOT ROMANCE

I didn't realize I'd been disappearing until the day I caught my own reflection and felt a stranger looking back. Thirty-eight years old, living safely, quietly, forgettably-like a ghost haunting my own routine.

But on that warm June afternoon, something in me finally snapped awake.

A pulse. A spark. A refusal.

So I reached for the keys to the old Winnebago Kevin once hoped would save me, gathered my stunned eighteen-year-olds, and stepped toward a summer that felt impossible-raw, wild, alive.

It was the day I stopped surviving my life

and started claiming it.