Time drags like a funeral march in this place. Same white walls, same dull voices, same assignments no one cares about. Ever since I transferred to this school, I’ve mostly just floated through the days — invisible, bored, and counting ceiling tiles to pass the time.

Then I saw her.

She sat near the back, a shadow in a sea of beige. Headphones in, hood up, legs crossed like she owned her silence. While everyone else whispered and giggled in clusters, she was still. Unbothered. Untouchable.

Her outfit was dark and mismatched — torn black tights, a baggy hoodie two sizes too big, silver rings on her fingers that caught the light like claws. There was something eerie about her. Not scary — just… charged. Like she was thinking thoughts the rest of us weren’t allowed to have.

She didn’t look up. Not once. But somehow, I felt like she already knew I was watching.

That was the first time I noticed her. And the last time I looked away without thinking about what it would feel like… to get close.