Frida felt like shopping for random stuff for the Thanksgiving trip that evening.
She needed some good old girl time, a chance to let her mind wander without the weight of emotions pressing down on her chest.
She couldn't let some mysterious figure prevent her from living her life, and being the girl she'd always been.
The streets of New York were alive with their usual buzz, the golden glow of streetlights reflecting off the damp pavement from an earlier drizzle.
Cars honked intermittently, and the smell of roasted chestnuts from a street vendor wafted through the air.
Pedestrians shuffled along the sidewalks, some in hurried strides, others leisurely enjoying the crisp breeze.
She walked past vibrant storefronts adorned with holiday decorations, wreaths, fairy lights, and cheerful signs advertising sales. The warm, festive atmosphere made her smile despite herself.
