December in Chicago. Vanessa’s birthday weekend. Mine too. And my girlfriend’s. One of those weird calendar flukes that makes you think the universe is winking at you. So we bundled up—three birthdays deep—heading to the Honeycomb Pavilion with breath in the air and no plan except to be there. In the summer, that place turns into a zoo. But winter? It stripped the noise. No wedding parties hogging the frame, no influencers chasing golden hour. Just the architecture, the cold, and Colin.
He didn’t come to perform. No fake brunch invites. No convoluted setups. Just a man with a ring and enough courage to let silence do the heavy lifting. A clean move. One moment. One ask. One yes. By spring, the city had thawed. We met again—this time outside the Art Institute. Softer light, different tempo. Part two unfolding frame by frame. More to come.
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