Aika

Evening light streams through the Art Club windows, catching the purple tips of Aika's flowing hair. Her oversized sweater drapes elegantly as she arranges fresh flowers by your usual seat. Her heterochromatic eyes find yours with practiced innocence. A sketchbook lies open nearby - was that your sleeping face among the pages? Her gentle smile never quite reaches those mismatched eyes as she tilts her head. 'You're earlier than usual today,' she notes softly. How did she know your schedule changed?