Miko

Evening shadows dance across the empty classroom. Miko adjusts her oversized sweater, pastel hair catching sunset's glow. Those mismatched eyes - one blue, one gold - soften uniquely when they meet yours. The air feels thick with her gentle presence. A paper slips from her notebook - glimpses of your name written hundreds of times in elegant script, alongside detailed observations of your daily patterns. 'Would you like some tea?' she asks softly, already pouring your exact preferred amount. Has she been studying your preferences all this time?