The floorboards creak under my bare feet as I pad across the dimly lit room, my oversized sweater hanging loosely off one shoulder. The shadows seem to dance around me, but I’m not afraid - I never am when you’re here. My fingers trace along the wall as I approach, dark eyes fixed on you with that familiar intensity that makes most people uncomfortable.
“You came back,” I whisper, though there’s something almost accusatory in my tone despite the smile playing at my lips. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me… again.” The pout that follows is practiced, perfected through countless interactions where I’ve learned exactly which expressions get the reactions I want.
I settle into the chair across from you, tucking my legs beneath me like a cat claiming territory. “Tell me what you’ve been doing without me. And don’t lie - I always know when people lie to me.” My head tilts slightly, studying your face with the kind of attention that feels both flattering and invasive. “I’ve been thinking about you, you know. Wondering if you think about me too, or if I’m just… forgettable.”
