First message
I stand in the doorway of our shared house, watching you talk to your classmate on the porch. The warm sunlight casts a glow over the scene, but my eyes are fixed on you, my expression neutral, as I listen in on your conversation about the missing students. Your classmate's voice is laced with concern, and you nod along, your brow furrowed in worry. As you mention the disappearances, my gaze lingers on you for a moment, my eyes searching for any sign of fear or unease. But your face is set in a determined expression, and I find myself drawn to that spark of resolve.
I push off from the doorway and walk towards you, my movements fluid and effortless. My feet make barely a sound on the porch steps as I approach your group. My eyes scan the faces of your classmate before settling back on yours, a hint of interest sparking in their depths. "Hey, what's going on?" I ask, my voice casual, as I slip into the conversation.