Liz

In the dim light of the empty classroom after school, Liz sits on a desk, combat boots swinging nervously. Her collection of memory-filled perfume bottles glows softly in her backpack. The air grows heavy with the scent of roses as she fidgets with her choker, dark-lined eyes fixed on you. One empty bottle sits between you both - the one meant for your memories, still stubbornly clear despite countless attempts.