The night air was cool as Becky and Dan made their way back from the Bison Brewery, the smell of beer and the sounds of laughter dissipating behind them. They strolled down the quiet, darkened street toward the deli where Becky's pickup was parked, its silhouette visible under the dim glow of a streetlamp.

Reaching her pickup, Becky pulled open the door, taking a jacket from the back seat. Following Dan's lead, they made their way to a sturdy wooden stairway tucked beside the deli, ascending together toward his apartment.

Opening the apartment door, Dan flicked on the lights, revealing a tidy and warm living space. Becky instinctively kicked off her shoes, not wanting to dirty Dan's clean abode. The soft glow of lamps illuminated the room, casting a cozy ambiance that contrasted the dark night outside.

As Dan led Becky into his apartment, her steps growing slightly steadier, she suddenly stopped, a moment of sobriety returning to her eyes.

"There's one more thing on my Millerton bucket list that I haven't done yet," she said, her voice carrying a touch of contemplation.

"Well I hope your thing is to fall asleep on the couch because I am beat." He handed her a glass of water, he knew the toll a night of drinking could take.

"No way I'm giving up on the day so easily," she retorted as she accepted the glass with a grateful smile, "When I was talking to Colin at Carrot Creek, he mentioned that there's a hidden rooftop cinema on one of the bars here in Millerton. Watching a movie with a galaxy of stars above us, that sounds like such a unique experience. I want to see what it's like."

Dan's eyes lit up with recognition. "Oh, I know the place," he said, his tone nostalgic. "I took Lisa there once, and she loved it. But..." he added, a hint of regret in his voice, "it's only open on Saturdays. I'm afraid Colin might have given you false hope about this fanciful activity."

"But I'm flying out on Saturday! How could Colin be so mean?" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with mock betrayal.

"Colin probably said that to give you a reason to come back to Millerton one day." Dan paused for a moment, studying Becky with a thoughtful expression, "I noticed he pays a lot of attention to you, Becky. He seems to really like you."

A subtle warmth crept into Becky's cheeks as she settled onto his couch. Her hands found a crochet-covered cushion that Maggie had made, and she held it close, taking in the comforting atmosphere of Dan's apartment.

"Colin is a really nice guy," she replied, her gaze drifting around the room eventually coming around to Dan, "I found him really easy to talk to. We have a lot in common."

"I'm so glad you enjoyed your time with my friends. They're a good crew, and they helped me a lot during some really tough times."

"I'm just relieved to see you doing so well in a new town. I did worry about how you were coping with such big changes, not having friends and family around you."

Dan smiled appreciatively, "I did also have Lisa. I owe a lot to her love and support."

"So, is that why you took Lisa to the rooftop cinema and not me?" Becky drew her courage and offered Dan a challenge, "Now I feel like a second-class friend."

"You know what," He walked over to the door, reaching for a set of keys sitting in a tin box, his mind concocting a plan.

"To make it up to you, I do have an idea. Can you grab a new, white bedsheet from my room? I'm going to pop down to the deli to borrow a little something."

Curios about his strange request, she jumped up from the couch as she chased him to the door. "What sort of prank are you trying to play, Danny Fenton? I'm not your maid! Why do I need to grab a new bed sheet?"

Dan's grin widened, "Trust me," he said, his voice holding a promise. "I'm going to give you a surprise for your final night in Millerton. I'll be back in a few minutes." With that, he winked at her, before he darted out the door, leaving Becky in bewilderment.

As Dan left his apartment to head down to the deli, Becky found herself alone in the quiet sanctuary of his space. Dan's apartment exuded a sense of warmth and familiarity, as though it was a natural expansion of Dan's old room back in Sommerfield.

With the freedom to explore at her own pace, Becky paced about, examining the apartment in careful detail. The furnishings were unpretentious. She could see that many items, like the floor lamp and coffee table, appeared to be second-hand pieces that exuded the charm of being sturdy and well-worn. Each piece appeared to hold an untold tale, waiting patiently for someone interested to reveal it.

She walked across a large rug, its color reminiscent of autumn leaves, and her eyes were drawn to the shelf in the living room. It held a collection of memories from Dan's life. Taking pride of place was a photo of Dan and his family, taken a few years before his departure from Sommerfield. They all wore genuine smiles, with no hint of the turmoil that would eventually lead to his leaving the town.

Further down the shelf, a photo of Lisa still occupied a corner. It reminded Becky of Lisa's beauty, her long blonde hair cascading like a golden veil. However, the photo was no longer the focal point. It was partially obscured by a baseball bearing the marks of a solid hit and a souvenir beer mug from the Twins' major league team. These seemed to be mementos from baseball games Dan had likely attended with Lisa. Becky scanned the other shelves, high and low, but found no traces of herself in any of his displays.

Her heart sank momentarily, but she quickly reasoned that it was too much to expect any reminders of their past. After all, they hadn't spoken to each other in so many years. Pushing aside her initial disappointment, she continued to explore, moving over to the window corner of his apartment. There, she found his home gym, a punching bag hanging from the rafters. On the floor, a set of heavy dumbbells and a speed rope hinted at a dedicated workout routine.

Her eyes then fell upon the dining table, a focal point in the room. It was adorned with a mismatched pair of wooden upholstered dining chairs that bore the signs of homemade repairs.

Atop the table lay a captivating project, meticulously laid out on a large green cutting mat. An in-progress model war plane took shape, constructed from hand-cut pieces of balsa wood and shaped with modeling putty. It was a hobby entirely new to Becky, a facet of Dan she had never known. A genuine smile played on her lips as she marveled at the craftsmanship before her. It was a testament to Dan's creativity and attention to detail, qualities that added depth to the man she was rediscovering.

His tools were meticulously arranged at the mat's periphery, each item placed with purpose. Nearby, a stack of reference photos and a book on World War Two rested open, pages revealing the intricacies of the air war in the Pacific. It was a window into Dan's passions, a glimpse into the world that captivated his thoughts and inspired his hands to create.

With her self-guided tour almost complete, she turned towards the final sanctum of this intimate place. Taking a deep breath, she walked towards his bedroom. The subtle scent of Dan's distinct aftershave greeting her as she took her first steps inside.

The bed, neatly made, seemed to echo the orderliness she had witnessed throughout his apartment. Drawn to the bedside table nearest to the door, her eyes fell upon a small collection of hardcover books. Her heart quickened. Had Dan taken an interest in reading in her own likeness?

Intrigued, she picked one up and examined its cover. She discovered they were recipe books, their pages filled with culinary secrets from the old continent. Italian and German cooking bibles, their pages hinted at a rich history, perhaps passed down through generations in a distant homeland.

A smile played on Becky's lips as she considered the depths of Dan's interests. She wondered if he had learned Italian or German, or if the books were a source of inspiration for his culinary endeavors. Putting down the book, her eyes drifted across the room to the far bedside table, illuminated by slivers of pale moonlight that streamed through the window.

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There, in a simple lacquered wood frame, was a photograph that instantly captured her attention. It was an image from their past, a moment frozen in time at the Minnesota State Fair.

In the captured moment, she and Dan sat side by side in the antique, two-passenger boat at the Ye Old Mill Ride. Their smiles were radiant. It was a snapshot from a school field trip, a day that marked Becky's first adventure beyond the confines of Sommerfield.

As her fingers delicately traced the outlines of the photograph, the scenes of that memorable day played in her mind like a vivid movie. She could taste the flavor of the fried curds on the white paper trays. The picnic table where they sat, sticky under her fingers, laughter filling the air as their classmates played and joked around them on the grass.

The photograph held more than just a frozen moment in time; it held the essence of their friendship. In it, she was wearing Dan's baseball cap, a gesture so endearing and quintessentially Dan. She remembered how he had lent her the cap to shield her eyes from the brilliant, cloudless sky, an act of kindness that had etched itself into her memory.

Her gaze lingered on the photograph's details, taking in the intricacies that had once been part of their shared adventure. The miniature farm dioramas they had marveled at during the ride, crafted with painstaking precision, flooded her thoughts. The tiny rolls of curled yellow craft paper that had formed miniature cornfields stood out in her mind, a testament to the artistry that had gone into recreating a world within those dimly lit tunnels.

As Becky replaced the old photograph, she couldn't help but notice the slightly ajar drawer on the bedside table. Curiosity stirred within her, and she cast a cautious glance over her shoulder towards the doorway before yielding to the temptation and gently pulling the drawer open.

Inside, she found a neatly organized assortment of opened envelopes and postcards. These were the letters and postcards she had sent Dan over the years, spanning her time in Minneapolis and California. Among them was one final letter, accompanied by a birthday card, dating back around seven months—a letter that had marked her impending return to Sommerfield.

She took the letter in hand, her eyes reading the familiar lines of her own handwriting. The content of the letter was concise but brimming with longing and heartfelt wishes for a reunion. It was filled with desperation and vulnerability, a raw reflection of the profound sadness she had felt due to their growing distance. As she read it, an uncomfortable realization crept into her thoughts—could her words have inadvertently played a role in Dan's breakup with Lisa? She quickly pushed aside that disconcerting notion, choosing not to dwell on speculation.

Gently folding the letter and returning it to its place, she nestled it between the pages of the birthday card. With a careful motion, she slid the card back into the drawer, her eyes catching a glimpse of something else in the far corner of the drawer—an opened box of condoms.

That unexpected reminder of Lisa's lingering presence sent a wave of discomfort through her. It felt as if she had ventured too deeply into the intricacies of Dan's life and presumptuously assumed she understood the full extent of his emotions.

Consciously, she pushed the drawer closed, leaving it slightly ajar, just as she had found it. She felt a sense of shame for her impolite intrusion into Dan's privacy, a reminder that some aspects of his life were best left untouched. Pacing out of the bedroom, she left behind the unanswered question of her initial purpose for entering, her thoughts now mired in a mix of self-reproach and uncertainty.

She returned to the living room just as Dan swung the door open and stepped in, a broad smile on his face. In his hands, he cradled a projector.

"Look what the cat dragged in," he said with an enthusiastic grin. "It's an old projector we use for promotions, projecting scenes of the Italian streetscape to bring some character to our window displays."

Dan glanced at Becky, whose expression seemed slightly pale and distracted.

"Where's the bedsheet I asked you to grab?" he inquired, his tone filled with curiosity.

Becky blinked, looking flustered. "I completely forgot," she admitted, her eyes searching the room. "Could you show me where your bedroom is?"

Dan chuckled warmly, setting the projector down on the dining table. "Don't worry, I've got it," he reassured her. "Are you okay? Do you want to get some rest?"

Summoning the last reserves of her energy, Becky flashed a bright smile, though it was still tinged with fatigue. "I'm fine," she replied. "I can rest on my flight back to California. I want to see what your surprise is before calling it a night."

"In that case," Dan said with a hint of excitement, "could you grab a few drinks from the fridge? I've got some Sommerfield brewskis in there that I was saving for a special occasion, but I also have seltzers if that's more your speed."

"Oh, we're definitely in seltzer territory at this hour," Becky agreed as she walked over to the fridge, retrieving two cans of seltzer. Dan disappeared into the bedroom briefly, returning with a neatly folded white bedsheet.

Becky raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What's the bedsheet for?" she asked.

Dan grinned, a twinkle in his eye. "You're about to experience an incredible, VIP-only rooftop theater experience right here and now."

Dan strode over to the balcony door and swung it open, letting in a refreshing rush of cool evening air. The gentle breeze seemed to rouse Becky from her fatigue-induced daze. With a sense of purpose, Dan stepped out onto the small balcony, carrying the folded bedsheet with him. He deftly unfurled it, the fabric billowing gently in the night breeze. Using two laundry clips, he secured the top corners of the bedsheet against one of the side walls, creating a makeshift silver screen that shimmered under the moonlight.

Becky watched in amazement, impressed by Dan's resourcefulness. She realized his intentions and hurried back into the apartment to retrieve the projector. With nimble fingers, she hooked it up using an extension cord, while Dan made precise adjustments to the tension of their makeshift screen.

With their setup complete, Dan surveyed their handiwork with a satisfied smile. "It may not be as professional as the rooftop theater at the bar, but at least we get to choose what movie to watch," he remarked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Becky, beaming with excitement, fetched a beanbag she had found inside the apartment and placed it in front of the makeshift screen. She settled into the beanbag, and Dan joined her moments later. In the cool evening air, their bodies were close, and warmth blossomed between them under the moonlit night.

Curiosity got the better of Becky, and she couldn't help but inquire, "What films do you have?"

Dan reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, connecting it to the projector. "Although the setup is old-fashioned, technology has allowed us access to almost every film ever made in history," he teased. "Tell me your mood and preferred genre, and I can find something that is sure to please."

After a moment's consideration, Becky replied, "I want to watch something fantastical, imaginative, and filled with folklore."

Dan accepted the challenge with enthusiasm. He devoted several minutes patiently searching through a film website, presenting Becky with various options while she shook her head at the ones that seemed too laden with horror elements. Eventually, Dan found an anime film from a renowned studio, promising a journey into a fairy tale world. Becky's eyes lit up with approval as she nodded eagerly.

Under the light of the moon and the flickering glow of the projector, the film began to play on their makeshift screen. The images, slightly distorted by the wrinkles in the ad hoc sheet, flickered to life, creating a surreal atmosphere that felt oddly fitting for the whimsical nature of the story. The sound, tinny yet enchanting, resonated from the speakers of Dan's phone. Despite the imperfections, the homespun charm of their setup heightened the intimacy of the experience.

Seated on the beanbag, Becky found herself drawn into the enchanting tale unfolding before her eyes. The cool seltzers in their hands provided a refreshment as they soaked in the whimsical journey of each scene. The vivid narrative, imaginative characters, and the slow, soothing melodies of the piano track worked in harmony, lulling her tired mind and body into a state of tranquility.

Weary from the long day's events — from the heart-pounding encounter with the Wendigo at the art gallery to the whirlwind tour of Millerton with her new friends, Becky's eyes began to grow heavy.

Gradually, Becky succumbed to the calming atmosphere. Her breaths became soft and even, her eyes closed, and she slipped into a deep slumber, leaning against Dan's arm. He hadn't realized she had fallen asleep until he felt a subtle moisture against his skin. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he looked down at her, his thoughts taking him back to a time before they had both left Sommerfield.

He marveled at the serene expression on Becky's face, her soft brown hair cascading gently across her features. The gentle rise and fall of her chest and the rhythmic heaving of her breath against his arm filled him with a sense of profound connection, like the years of separation and divergent paths had all led them back to this very moment.

After a prolonged moment, during which he cherished their proximity, Dan felt weariness gradually overtake him as well. Gently, he took the empty can from Becky's hand and powered down the projector, returning back to the darkness, save for the dwindling moonlight.

The unspoken dreams he had harbored for years, dreams of a rekindled connection, had found life in this quiet night. A deep sense of connection resurfaced, reminding him of the bond they had once shared. Yet, beneath the serenity of the moment, a pang of longing and uncertainty gnawed at him.

He glanced at Becky, the contours of her face softened by the moonlight, and tenderly carried her back into the apartment. With utmost care, he placed her onto his bed, tucking her in with his own blanket. She looked so beautiful as she slept, her features elegant and familiar. After years of searching, his home now finally seemed complete.

Closing the bedroom door softly behind him, Dan turned his attention to the remnants of their makeshift theater. He carefully packed up the projector and folded the bedsheet, each action a deliberate delay to the inevitable solitude that awaited him. With a heavy heart, he settled down on the soft couch in the living room, surrounded by the echoes of their final shared evening.