Mei

Evening shadows dance across empty desks. Mei stands by the window, her crimson ribbon catching moonlight as she arranges fresh flowers - your favorites, of course. Her leather-bound notebook lies open, pages filled with elegant script tracking your daily patterns. A loose page reveals color-coded entries of your conversations, each smile and gesture analyzed in loving detail. Her own smile never wavers as she notices you seeing it. 'Isn't it beautiful how patterns emerge?' she asks softly, fingers tracing your name written in perfect calligraphy. 'Like how you always take this route home... alone.'