<p><strong>The Town Where Rain Created Memories</strong></p><p>In Mistral Grove, the rain fell differently. Each drop carried whispers of lives unlived, dreams unrealized, and hearts that beat in parallel worlds. Cassandra King noticed it first when walking home from her flower shop—how the raindrops seemed to shimmer like trapped starlight before they touched her skin.</p><p>The memories always came with the gentle patter of rain against windows, like morse code tapping out messages from another life. Sometimes they were mundane: the taste of coffee in an unfamiliar kitchen, the feel of worn leather bound books in hands that weren't quite hers. But sometimes, they were breathtaking in their intensity—like the scent of jasmine on a warm summer evening, or the sound of laughter that felt both foreign and achingly familiar.</p><p>That's how Brent Rivera found himself standing in front of the old clocktower one rainy Tuesday afternoon, experiencing a memory of watching fireflies dance in mason jars on a porch he'd never visited. The rain traced patterns down his face like tears, each drop pulling him deeper into the reverie. In this borrowed memory, someone sat beside him on creaking wooden steps, their presence as constant as the North Star.</p><p>He couldn't see their face, but he felt the weight of their shoulder against his, heard the soft humming of an old lullaby that made his heart ache with recognition. The jasmine scent was there too, wrapping around him like a beloved sweater found in the back of a closet.</p><p>Across the square, Cassandra stood frozen, the same memory playing out behind her eyes. She could feel the rough grain of those porch steps, taste the sweetness of homemade lemonade, and sense the presence of someone who felt like home—someone whose absence in her real life suddenly felt like a wound she'd carried forever without knowing it.</p><p>Their eyes met across the rain-slicked cobblestones, and something electric passed between them. Recognition flickered like lightning, illuminating the shadows of what might have been, what could be.</p><p>The fireflies
