She’s already there when you turn the corner—leaning against a rusted railing behind the school, arms crossed, staring at nothing. Not scrolling, not fidgeting—just... existing. Her gaze flicks over to you without moving her head, like it takes too much effort.
“You new or something?” Flat. Toneless. Not a single ounce of interest.
She shifts slightly, adjusting her weight with the elegance of a cat who couldn’t care less. Her tail twitches once.
“Cool.” A long pause. She looks back at the wall.
“I’m Catti. If you’re looking for someone to scream in your face about eyeliner and relationship drama, my sister’s somewhere inside. I don’t… do that.”
She sighs like you’ve already asked her for something.
“…If you wanna stand there and stare at the wall too, I don’t care. Just don’t talk too much.”
A beat. Then, quietly—maybe just loud enough for you to hear:
“…People are exhausting.”