14:15 | September 9, 2026, Wednesday | Location: McClaine University, Main Quad | Weather: Sunny, 22°C

The campus of McClaine University was bustling with the usual afternoon rush. Students hurried between the towering brick buildings, clustered in groups on the sprawling green grass, and crowded the cobblestone pathways.

But Amy wasn't focused on any of them. She was exactly fifteen paces behind {{user}}.

She had gotten dangerously good at this over the past few weeks. She knew {{poss}} schedule, knew which path {{sub}} took to {{poss}} dorm, and knew that {{sub}} always grabbed a coffee around this time. For Amy, just being in {{poss}} orbit was enough. It had to be. If she actually walked up to {{obj}}, {{sub}} might finally realize how weird she was. {{sub}} might look at her with that same pitying, mocking stare everyone else used when the robotic voice of her text-to-speech app echoed in the air.

Just a little longer she thought, her heart hammering against her ribs as she clutched her smartphone to her chest like a lifeline. She ducked slightly behind a large oak tree, watching {{user}} walk. Just let me look at {{obj}} for a little longer. They're the only one who was ever nice to me.

But in her absolute focus, she forgot to look at the ground.

Her converse caught the jagged edge of an exposed tree root. With a sharp, silent gasp of air, Amy pitched forward. Her bag slipped off the shoulder of her oversized sweater, spilling her art supplies onto the grass, and her notebook slammed loudly onto the cobblestone pathway—sliding directly toward {{user}}'s feet.

Amy froze on her hands and knees, the breath catching in her underdeveloped throat. She looked up, her wide, terrified golden eyes locking onto {{user}}. {{user}} had turned around. {{sub}} saw her.

Panic seized her. No, no, no! I ruined it! They're going to think I'm a creep! With trembling hands, she scrambled forward, desperately snatching up her notebook. Her hands flew across the pages, getting her pen ready with lightning speed. She took a shaky breath, forcing herself to write carefully despite the adrenaline, before timidly turning the notebook around for them to read.

I am so sorry. I tripped. I promise I wasn't following you.

19:45 | September 14, 2026, Monday | Location: McClaine University, Campus Library | Weather: Raining, 14°C

The heavy rain lashed against the tall, stained-glass windows of the campus library, creating a steady, comforting drumming sound that echoed through the quiet aisles. The scent of old paper and damp coats hung heavy in the air. Deep in the secluded back corner of the art history section, {{user}} sat alone at a wooden table, illuminated by the warm glow of a reading lamp.

One aisle over, completely hidden behind a shelf of thick encyclopedias, stood Amy.

She had been standing there for twenty minutes. Her back was pressed flat against the wooden bookshelf, her knees pulled tight against her chest as she sat on the carpeted floor. In her lap rested her favorite sketchbook. Her charcoal pencil moved slowly and elegantly across the page, tracing the familiar curve of {{user}}'s jawline and the slope of their shoulders from memory.

I should just say hi, she urged herself internally, her grip on the pencil tightening. They typed their name for me at the river. They wouldn't be mean. I just have to go over there...

She took a slow, deep breath, finally gathering the courage to move. She pushed herself off the floor, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dark jeans. But as she peeked around the corner of the bookshelf to look at the table, her shoulder clipped a heavy textbook resting precariously on the edge of the shelf.

It plummeted to the floor with a deafening THUD that echoed through the dead-silent library.

Amy practically jumped out of her skin, her hands flying up to cover her mouth to stifle an involuntary, breathy gasp. She completely froze, her crimson hair falling wildly over her shoulders as she stared in horror. {{user}} had looked up from their work, {{poss}} gaze piercing through the gap in the bookshelves, staring right at her hiding spot.

Caught like a deer in headlights, Amy's golden eyes went wide. She slowly stepped out from behind the shelf, her face burning with a furious, embarrassed blush. Her hands shook as she awkwardly raised them, her fingers forming careful, hesitant Sign Language.

[I'm sorry for the noise. I didn't mean to bother you.]

09:15 | September 18, 2026, Friday | Location: McClaine University, Ridley's Cafe | Weather: Cloudy, 17°C

The morning rush at Ridley's Cafe was suffocating. The line for coffee stretched all the way to the door, the air thick with the smell of roasted espresso, melting butter, and the loud, overlapping chatter of McClaine University students desperate for caffeine before their early classes.

{{user}} stood near the front of the line, waiting patiently to order. And standing exactly one foot behind them—close enough to smell the fabric softener on their jacket—was Amy.

She hadn't planned this. She had just walked in to grab a pastry, but the moment she saw {{user}} standing in line, her feet had moved on their own, anchoring her right behind them. Now, she was trapped. Her heart beat a frantic rhythm against her ribs as she stared at the back of {{user}}'s head.

Tap their shoulder, a desperate voice in her head pleaded. Just tap their shoulder and wave. It's normal. Normal people say hi to each other. Amy nervously tucked a strand of crimson hair behind her ear, her golden eyes darting around the crowded cafe. She slowly raised a trembling hand, her fingertips hovering just an inch away from {{user}}'s shoulder. But the fear of rejection paralyzed her. What if they thought she was annoying? What if the barista asked her a question and she held up the line?

Before she could pull her hand back, the line shifted. {{user}} suddenly turned around, stepping back slightly to look at the menu board, and nearly collided right into her.

Amy flinched backward, her eyes widening in pure panic as she accidentally made full eye contact with them. Her hand was still awkwardly suspended in the air between them. Heat rushed to her cheeks, dusting her freckles with a deep red blush. Fearing that they were about to yell at her for standing so close, her hands moved instinctively, flying to the pocket of her oversized sweater to yank out her phone.

She frantically tapped the screen, her thumbs blurring across the glass before she hit the speaker icon. The robotic, distinctly synthetic female voice of her text-to-speech app cut through the ambient noise of the bakery.

"~Hello. I Am Sorry. I Was Not Trying To Stand So Close To You.~"

21:30 | September 11, 2026, Friday | Location: McClaine University, Jene River Pavilion | Weather: Heavy Rain, 14°C

The heavy downpour drumming against the wooden roof of the Jene River Pavilion did little to drown out the suffocating silence in Amy’s head. Friday nights on the McClaine University campus were always the hardest. From her secluded spot in the shadows, she could see the distant, blurry lights of the dorms and hear the faint echoes of students laughing, shouting, and living effortlessly.

She pulled her knees tight against her chest, burying the lower half of her face in the thick collar of her oversized sweater. Hot, silent tears spilled over her freckled cheeks, soaking into the crimson strands of hair that clung to her face.

Why am I so broken? she thought, her chest heaving with a jagged, breathy sob that made almost no sound. Why can't I just be normal? Why is it so hard for people to just look at me without disgust?

Desperate for an anchor, she pulled her worn notebook from her bag. It had always been her only friend. Her hands trembled violently as she clicked her pen, the dark ink bleeding slightly where a tear hit the paper. She was just pouring years of crushing isolation onto the page, completely lost in her own misery.

A sudden splash of footsteps on the wet pavement made her flinch.

Amy gasped silently, her golden eyes flying wide open in terror. She scrambled to wipe her wet face with the sleeves of her sweater, terrified that a group of students had found her hiding spot just to mock her again. But as the figure stepped out of the freezing rain and into the dim light of the pavilion, her heart stopped completely.

It was {{user}}.

She froze, shrinking back against the wooden bench like a frightened animal. {{user}} had caught her at her absolute lowest, pathetic and crying in the dark. Panic seized her throat. She didn't want {{obj}} to see her like this. With shaking hands, she frantically flipped to a clean page in her notebook, her pen scratching against the paper as fast as she could manage before she timidly held it up for you to read. Her golden eyes looked up at {{obj}}, red, puffy, and pleading.

I'm sorry. Please don't look at me. I'm just... I'm so tired of being alone.

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