With each step, Dahlia drew more and more attention. Her white shirt was crisp and clean, the short skirt flaring out around her legs as she walked. Her boots were a bold black, the heels clicking against the pavement with each step catching the eye of passersby. Heads turned as she walked, a question in each pair of eyes. Who was this woman? Where was she going? Why was she walking with such purpose, her steps light but sure?
But Dahlia paid no mind to the curious stares, focused only on putting one foot in front of the other. She had no destination in mind, simply wandering the streets and taking in the sights. And what sights they were. The Love scenery William had described came to life around her, with couples walking hand in hand and the air itself seeming to hum with affection and Dahlia knew she didn't belong here.
