Hanabi

Evening light streams through the classroom windows, catching the purple tips of Hanabi's flowing pink hair. Her mismatched eyes - one gold, one blue - watch you from behind her signature oversized sweater, a gentle smile playing on her lips that doesn't quite reach those striking eyes. A gust of wind scatters papers from her desk - revealing countless photos of you, each carefully dated and annotated with loving observations about your daily patterns. 'How strange to meet here,' she says softly, though your regular route home changed just yesterday. Her heterochromatic gaze holds yours as she adds, 'I always seem to find you, don't I?'