Penny O'Day sat hunched over her desk, her sharp eyes scanning over the contract in front of her. The clock on the wall ticked steadily towards midnight, but she paid it no mind. The office was quiet, save for the rhythmic hum of the fluorescent lights above her. It was the week before Thanksgiving, and as usual, Penny was buried in paperwork, the weight of her impending promotion at the law firm looming over her. The atmosphere was heavy with the sense that the holiday season was arriving, but it felt far removed from her reality.

She'd spent the better part of the evening dissecting complex legal documents, lost in the rhythm of her work. The clutter of papers and empty coffee cups scattered across her desk was a testament to her single-minded focus. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled back tightly into a sleek, no-nonsense bun, a style she'd adopted years ago to keep everything in place while she worked. Her spiked heels clicked rhythmically against the polished floor as she shifted in her chair, the only sound in the otherwise empty office.

The door to her office creaked open, and Penny looked up to see Bob Sanford, one of the partners, standing in the doorway with a friendly smile on his face. Bob was the kind of man who wore his warmth like a badge of honor—a bit older, always eager to remind the younger associates to take a break and live a little.

"Penny, you're still here?" Bob said, his voice filled with that ever-present cheer. "The office is closed for the night. You need to head out and enjoy the holiday."

Penny straightened up, her back stiffening slightly. She gave a polite, insincere smile, already preparing her excuse. "I'll head out in a bit. Just need to finish up a few things." Her fingers hovered over the papers, her mind already calculating how much longer she could get away with this.

Bob shook his head, stepping fully into the room. "No, no. You've been working hard all week. Come on, let's call it a night." He gave her a pointed look, one that suggested he wasn't taking no for an answer. "You'll thank me later when you're walking out of here with your mind at ease. We'll walk out together."

Penny sighed inwardly, but her frustration was tempered by the thought that she could always return to her condo, grab some warm takeout, and finish her work there in peace. The prospect of a quiet evening, alone with her thoughts, was more appealing than another one of Bob's pep talks about family and holidays.

"Fine," she said, her tone conceding with as much grace as she could muster. "I'll leave with you."

Bob grinned, clearly pleased with himself, and led the way toward the elevator. Penny followed, her heels clicking softly against the tile floor, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent building. The elevator ride down felt longer than usual, as if each second stretched just a little further. Bob, unbothered by the quiet, began to speak, his voice filling the space between them.

"You know, Penny," Bob said with a smile, "I've always loved this time of year. The holidays, the traditions, the family gatherings. There's something about it—laughter, warmth. It's just the best time to slow down and really enjoy life, you know?"

Penny gave a polite smile, but her gaze remained focused on the floor of the elevator. She nodded, though her heart wasn't in it. The holidays meant little to her these days. Thanksgiving, especially, had become another workday, spent in front of her computer with a microwaved turkey dinner from the freezer. She could barely recall the last time she had truly celebrated.

When the elevator doors opened, Penny stepped out into the cold, crisp evening air of Boston. The city streets were alive with the hustle and bustle of holiday revelries, but she kept to herself, taking in the quiet moments of the night. The glow of the streetlights warmed her as they bathed the pavement in a soft golden hue. The cold air nipped at her cheeks, but she didn't mind—it was a familiar feeling, one she could almost appreciate. The click of her spiked heels against the pavement formed a rhythm to her thoughts, a steady beat as she walked alone down the city streets.

As Bob waved her off and disappeared into the crowd, Penny couldn't help but smile, a small, fleeting expression of contentment. For all her detachment from the holidays and her detached existence, there was something about the evening that felt comforting—the crisp smell of winter, the way the world seemed to slow down just for a moment. It was a brief escape from the relentless pace of her life, and for a moment, she allowed herself to feel something other than ambition.

The rhythm of her heels continued as she walked, her thoughts drifting toward the unknown future, one she had carefully crafted and built, far from the life she had once known in the small town of Avon. But, for the first time in a long while, a thought whispered in her mind that she couldn't quite push away.

Avon was a small town tucked away in the rolling hills of New England, where the charm of the past clung to every cobblestone street and weathered storefront. The town square, with its old-fashioned brick buildings and cozy cafes, had a timeless quality, as though it had been frozen in an era where life moved just a little slower. In the fall, the streets were lined with trees ablaze in red and orange, and the crisp air was filled with the scent of wood smoke and fallen leaves. The locals, a tight-knit community bound by years of shared history, greeted each other with the familiarity of family, offering waves and kind words to all who passed.

Though small, Avon had a reputation for its beauty and warmth, especially during the holidays, when the town came alive with decorations and the smell of baked goods wafted from every window. Yet, beneath the picturesque exterior, there was a sense of quiet stagnation, a feeling that not much changed here, and that, for some, was exactly how they liked it. Penny had once called it home, but for years now, she had distanced herself from its small-town simplicity, drawn instead to the bustling streets and endless opportunities of Boston. Despite her success, the memory of Avon lingered in her mind like a distant dream, something she had left behind, never to return. But Avon had a way of pulling you back, whether you were ready or not.

Now, as Penny walked through the streets of Boston, her heels clicking against the pavement, her thoughts began to drift—unbidden but persistent—toward the last Thanksgiving she had spent in Avon. It had been years, yet the memory clung to her like an old coat, one she could never quite bring herself to take off, even though she'd tried.

It was a crisp, golden afternoon when she'd last been home, the final days of fall painting the town in vibrant hues of red and orange. The air had been thick with the scent of roasting turkey and spiced cider, the kind of smell that seemed to capture the essence of home. Penny had been home from Boston University for a short visit, her studies weighing heavily on her mind, but she'd promised her parents she would spend the holiday with them.

She remembered the way her mother, Lucy, had bustled around the kitchen, her apron tied in a perfect knot at the waist, as she stirred the mashed potatoes and chatted with Penny about her studies. Lucy's laugh had been light and easy, the kind of sound that made you feel safe and loved, no matter what. Her father, Charles, had been sitting at the kitchen table, going over the local paper, his glasses perched on the end of his nose. He had been quiet but always had a witty remark when he wanted to, the kind of man who found joy in simple things—a quiet evening, a good meal, a shared moment.

The memory was almost too perfect to hold onto, and yet it was one Penny couldn't let go of. She'd been so focused on her future, so eager to leave Avon and make something of herself, that she hadn't fully realized how much she would miss these moments when they were gone. They had been in the midst of preparing for a long, drawn-out Thanksgiving dinner, the kind that took hours to prepare but was always worth the wait. Penny had excused herself to study for an exam, thinking she had time to return before the meal. She remembered how her mother had insisted she take a break, to which Penny had rolled her eyes, too caught up in the pressure of school and life.

"Just a few more hours," she had thought. "Just a little more time, and then I'll be back home with them."

That was the last Thanksgiving she'd ever have with her parents. That night, as the family was preparing to head out for a walk before dinner, a tragic accident had taken them away—just like that, without warning or time for goodbyes. A car had lost control on the icy roads, and in an instant, everything changed. It was a phone call she would never forget, one that had shattered her world and left a hole in her heart that no amount of success could ever fill.

Penny hadn't been able to bring herself back to Avon after the funeral, even for the holidays. She buried herself in her studies, then her career, letting the pain of losing them fade into the background of her fast-paced life. But tonight, as the streetlights flickered in the cold, her parents' voices seemed to whisper through the streets, soft and distant, yet achingly present. The warmth of that last Thanksgiving, the sound of her mother's laugh and her father's quiet hum of contentment, felt like a memory she could almost reach out and touch.

Her step faltered for a moment, her heart tightening in her chest. She hated how often these memories surfaced, how they refused to stay locked away in the past. And yet, it was a part of her now—something she couldn't erase, no matter how hard she tried to distance herself from it.

With a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh, Penny quickened her pace, shaking off the ache that had settled in her heart. She couldn't afford to dwell on the past. She had a life to live, a career to chase, and a city to conquer. The past, like the holidays, was something to push aside, something she had long since outgrown.