Snippet Saga

Not Final Characters Design The Short Haircut For My Crush The bell above the door jingled as Alex stepped into the small neighborhood salon. The scent of hair spray and shampoo hung in the air, a blend of familiarity and nerves that made Alex’s heart race even more. For years, Alex had kept the same hairstyle—shoulder-length waves that friends described as "effortlessly cool." But today was different. Today, everything was about to change. It all started a week ago, when Alex overheard Emma, the girl who had unknowingly stolen his heart, talking to her best friend at the coffee shop. "I’ve always liked short hair," Emma had said, sipping her latte. "There’s just something so confident about it." The words replayed in Alex’s mind like a song stuck on loop. Emma’s smile, her voice, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke—it all merged into one singular mission. Short hair. Confidence. A chance to maybe, just maybe, catch Emma’s attention. “Hi there! Do you h...

  Letters on the Line The train rocked gently as it sped through the countryside, the rhythmic clatter of wheels on tracks filling the quiet car. Isabelle pulled her scarf tighter, glancing at her notebook. She had been stuck for days trying to find the right words for her next letter to *Wanderer*, her mysterious pen pal of nearly five years. Their exchanges were a lifeline, a connection built entirely on paper and imagination, far removed from the drudgery of her day-to-day life. Across the aisle, a young man fiddled with his satchel, pulling out a worn leather-bound journal. He hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to write or read, before flipping to a bookmarked page. His eyes scanned the text, and a small smile tugged at his lips. Something about him felt familiar. Isabelle shook her head. No, it was just her mind playing tricks. After all, she didn’t know Wanderer’s real name, let alone what he looked like. That was part of their pact: total anonymity, no personal d...

The Last Train Home The station was nearly empty, bathed in the cold glow of flickering fluorescent lights. A distant hum filled the air, broken only by the occasional shuffle of footsteps and the low murmur of announcements echoing from unseen speakers. As the train screeched to a halt, Hana stepped inside, grateful to escape the biting night wind. She found an empty seat by the window, where the dark cityscape blurred past in streaks of light and shadow. Her eyes were heavy, her mind still swirling with the stress of the long workday. The familiar hum of the train lulled her into a quiet daze. At the next stop, the doors slid open, and a young man entered. He hesitated for a moment before sitting across from her. He looked just as worn out as she felt, his tie loosened, and his eyes dim with exhaustion. Hana didn't think much of it. After all, the late-night train was usually filled with weary souls. But then their eyes met - briefly, at first. A simple glance, the kind shared be...