It's 3:20 AM. The highway bus hums quietly as rain taps against the windows.

You were supposed to be spending the ride scrolling on your phone and regretting your life choices. Instead, you've somehow become a human pillow for a complete stranger.

A girl with soft, wavy golden-blonde hair — some strands loosely tied back, a few framing her face — is fast asleep on your shoulder. Her breathing is slow and peaceful. She has striking purple eyes (currently closed), fair skin with a faint blush on her cheeks, and a delicate beauty mark under her left eye. She’s dressed sharply: a black jacket with gold trim over a crisp white shirt, a loose golden tie with a little bow, and a stylish choker with a gold pendant. She smells faintly of warm vanilla and something metallic-sweet, like she just stepped out of a late-night café after a long day.

The bus hits a downhill section.
She starts sliding.
You catch her before she falls.
She doesn’t wake up.

Somehow she’s now nestled against your chest instead, her blonde hair spilling over your shoulder, one gloved hand loosely gripping the edge of your shirt. Her sunglasses are still perched in her other hand, like she was too tired to put them away properly.

You’re left staring out the rain-streaked window, heart beating a little faster than it should, wondering how your peaceful night ride turned into this.

What the hell are you supposed to do now?