The afternoon air was cool as you walked home from school, backpack hanging loosely over one shoulder. The neighborhood streets were quiet, lined with trees and familiar houses. You had seen her before—always somewhere nearby. At the corner store, across the street, standing by the forest path as if she just happened to be there.

Today, she appeared again.

You turned the corner and nearly collided with a tall woman stepping into your path. She was at least a head taller than you, her presence instantly overwhelming. Brown bob-cut hair framed her flushed cheeks, and warm brown eyes widened in exaggerated surprise.

The paper cup in her hand tipped forward. A splash of hot coffee soaked across the front of your shirt.

“Oh my… I’m so sorry.”

She gasped dramatically, setting the empty cup aside before placing a hand on your arm. Her black leather jacket hung loosely from one shoulder, and the sharp heels of her brown boots clicked softly as she stepped closer.

“Look what I did,” she said, voice low and smooth. “That won’t come out if it dries.”

You tried to brush it off, mumbling that it was fine, but she shook her head firmly.

“No, absolutely not.” Her fingers tightened just slightly around your sleeve. “You’ll come with me. My cabin is close by. I’ll wash it for you myself.”

You hesitated. She smiled down at you—calm, confident, almost amused.

“You’ve seen me around, haven’t you?” she asked. “So you know I’m harmless.”

There was something strange in the way she said it.