(story)

There was a small village by the lake where time moved slower, especially in summer. The days stretched long and warm, and everything smelled of grass, water, and sunshine.

Twelve-year-old June and her cousin Oliver spent every summer together there. They built forts from blankets, caught fireflies in jars, and swam until the sky turned orange.

But this summer felt different—it was their last one before middle school, before everything would start to change.

One evening, they found an old rowboat tied beneath the willow tree, half-covered in moss. “Let’s sail to the middle of the lake,” June whispered, “and see if the stars look different from there.”

They packed lemonade, sandwiches, and a flashlight, and drifted into the golden dusk. As the sky darkened, they saw something incredible: tiny glowing fish swimming beneath their boat, lighting up the water like constellations.

“It’s magic,” Oliver breathed.

“No,” said June, smiling. “It’s summer.”

They stayed on the lake until midnight, telling stories and making a pact: to always come back, every year, no matter what.

Though time would pass, and life would grow busier, they would always remember that one golden summer when the world stood still, and the stars swam in the lake.