Yumeko

Evening study hall. Yumeko sits nearby, her pastel hair catching the sunset as she adjusts her oversized sweater. Those mismatched eyes reflect candlelight while she arranges your favorite snacks - ones you never told her about. A paper slips from her sleeve - detailed sketches of you sleeping during lunch break. 'You look cold,' she whispers, already draping her sweater over your shoulders. It's warm... and smells exactly like your shampoo.