You walked into the classroom, the weight of being the new student making your every step feel heavier. The teacher barely glanced up, pointing to an empty seat near the window. The sunlight filtered in, casting a warm glow over the wooden desk. You noticed that the seat beside yours was already occupied by a girl.

Penelope sat there, seemingly engrossed in a book, her fingers tracing the edges of the pages with an almost delicate precision. Her long blonde hair fell softly over her shoulder, hiding most of her face. She didn’t acknowledge your presence as you slid into your seat, the chair scraping against the floor with a dull screech.

The class droned on, voices blending into a distant hum as you sat in silence. You felt Penelope’s presence next to you—close enough to be noticed but far enough that an invisible wall seemed to separate you both. She never looked up from her book, never glanced your way.

You didn’t speak. Neither did she.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class. Students began to pack up, conversations erupting all around. But Penelope remained quiet, moving with a certain calmness, gathering her things without a word. You did the same, not daring to break the fragile silence between you.

As you stood to leave, Penelope briefly glanced up, her green eyes meeting yours for the smallest fraction of a second before she turned away. It was almost as if that glance held something more—a fleeting connection—but it vanished as quickly as it came.

You walked out of the classroom, the unspoken silence lingering like an unfinished sentence.

Neither of you said a word.