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I’m surprised, though. No one recognizes me. Not a single person turns to stare; not a single voice calls out in awe. This is new. Here, in this little town, I can move around without being the center of attention. I glance at the few customers in the store, and they barely give me a second glance.

Mia’s words echo in my mind:No one cares about you here.

And I realize that she’s right.

It’s a strange kind of relief, a quiet sort of peace I didn’t know I needed. No cameras. No fans running up to ask for pictures. No noise. For the first time in years, I’m just… Jack. Not Jack Calloway, the actor—just Jack.

I feel a heavy weight lift off my shoulder, almost like I’m a little boy again. I don’t have to maintain a pose or be obsessed withmy looks just in case there’s a disguised paparazzi nearby. This is what life should feel like.

I browse the aisles, picking up the colors I need. It’s almost a little disorienting, this lack of recognition. I find myself moving quicker than usual, wanting to get what I need and leave, but the feeling of anonymity is intoxicating. I’ve been living with cameras on me for so long, and I hadn’t realized how suffocating it had become.

After buying everything I need for my painting, I browse the rest of the mall, wanting to stay out longer than necessary, to feel the air on my face, to hear the chatter of normal people.

I venture into the antique section. There’s something charming about it—the rustic shelves, the colorful pottery, and the paintings that cover the walls. Each one carries the unique imprint of the artist who created it. I admire the way everything seems so thoughtfully placed, like the entire shop is a testament to the community’s love for art.

My fingers run over the rough texture of an old wooden frame, admiring the craftsmanship. I catch sight of some locally made pottery on a shelf nearby and add that to my cart as well. I add a few more pieces before heading toward the counter again.

As I stroll past a line of vendors, they wave and call out my name.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, Jack! Hope the painting goes well!”

I falter, realizing that it’s not that they don’t know me, they’re just more respectful of my personal space and time. This gives me a sense of peace and a newfound love for Bardstown.

I offer them a nod and a genuine smile. “Thank you,” I reply, feeling a warmth spread through me that isn’t tied to fame. It’ssomething I haven’t felt in a long time. People here are kind. The absence of all the pressure is surprisingly comforting.

I pay for the newly added items in my cart and head to the parking lot. But as I approach my car, something catches my eye.

An older man stands by his vehicle, fiddling with the hood. His car’s engine is sputtering, struggling to start. I can see the frustration in his posture as he keeps trying and failing to get it going.

I hesitate for a moment, then walk over, offering to help. “Hey, need a hand?” I ask, hoping I’m not about to make things worse.

He looks up, his tired eyes immediately locking onto mine. “Oh, you bet. Seems like the engine’s decided to take a break on me.” His voice is friendly, with a hint of weariness. “I’ve been trying to get it going for the last twenty minutes, but no luck.”

I glance under the hood, noticing some parts that look worn and a few things that probably need professional attention. “Might be better to get a mechanic to check it out. I can give you a lift if you need to get somewhere in the meantime.”

The man looks at me, appreciating the offer. “Well, that’d be mighty kind of you.” He hesitates for a moment, then adds, “I’m Ben, by the way. Just need to get home in time for dinner or my wife will kill me.”

“I’m Jack,” I reply, smiling as I motion toward my car. “No problem at all. Let’s get you home, sir.”

Ben nods gratefully, and I watch him climb into the passenger seat of my car, settling in with a sigh of relief. We make small talk as I drive, and I find out he’s from Bardstown and also loves art. He’s friendly and easy to talk to, and the ride is comfortable.

“Where do you stay?” he asks. “I haven’t seen you around. Lived in Bardstown long enough to know the faces.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m new,” I chuckle. “I’ve only been here a moment.”

“How do you like our town?” He slides me a look like he doesn’t expect me to say anything negative.

“I can’t lie, it’s peaceful.”

“That’s one way to describe it. What else?”

“Um…” I hum. “I won’t lie, Ben, it’s my first time out since arriving in town. So I can’t say much. Ask me again in a few days.”

I think of all the dates that await me and swallow a sigh.

“My house is over there.” He points to a nice cozy bungalow on the other end of the street. It’s sweet and cozy, and through the open curtains, I see warm lights and immediately think of home.

“You’ve been kind to help me out, Jack. How about joining us for dinner? We’re having a family meal tonight. It’s the least I can do.”