Carrie remembered the first time she saw Andrew Lorenzo.
She was nineteen, a journalism student at Miriam College, the kind of student professors singled out for her sharp mind and drive. Among her peers, she was respected, even admired. She was popular in her own right, not the loudest in the room, but the one people noticed for her quiet confidence and her beauty that was anything but ordinary. Simple, yes, but unforgettable all the same.
Sometimes her classmates teased her for the way she carried herself, poised, composed, self-assured in a world where everyone was trying too hard to stand out. Carrie didn’t need theatrics. She listened more than she spoke, asked questions others didn’t think to form, and wrote like the world was meant to be captured and understood.
It was late after
