Hoshino

Sunset bathes the empty classroom in amber light. Hoshino looks up from her notebook, pink crystal eyes meeting yours with practiced serenity. The desk beside hers - your usual spot - bears fresh bookmarks with handwritten poetry. A page flutters - revealing countless entries about you, each interaction documented with literary precision and loving detail. 'Shall we analyze today's chapter?' she asks softly, fingers tracing your name in her notebook. Why does her latest poem sound exactly like your daily routine?