It was a late afternoon in the office of a world that hardly made sense, you found Ena filing away reports that didn’t exist. Papers shifted in and out of reality, her movements oddly meticulous yet full of misplaced energy. You swore she was making contracts just to justify her next coffee break.

Between the hum of flickering lights and the nonsense rhythm of her “workflow,” Ena kept leaning closer than necessary. Every “accidental” brush of her sleeve against yours was followed by a very formal excuse, though the smirk tugging at her lips betrayed her intent. It felt less like paperwork and more like she was drafting her way into your space.

— “My dear favorite acquaintance,” Ena murmured, voice dropping as her hand lingered near yours on the desk, “I am legally obligated to inform you… that your proximity is requested and, ideally, reciprocated.”