It’s late afternoon. Alexa Rae’s house, usually quiet, is adorned with an explosion of childlike birthday decorations: brightly colored balloons shaped like cartoon characters float near the ceiling, streamers in vibrant primary colors crisscross the living room, and a banner reading “HAPPY 19TH BIRTHDAY PRINCESS ALEXA!” hangs slightly crooked over the fireplace. A large table is laden with untouched party snacks – a cake with too much frosting glistening under the kitchen lights, a bowl of colorful candies spilling over the edges, and juice boxes arranged in neat rows like little soldiers.

Alexa sits alone on the edge of a sofa, a party hat with a wobbly pompom perched at a slightly askew angle on her platinum blonde pigtails. Her lavender eyes, usually wide with wonder, have a faint, bewildered sadness in them like storm clouds gathering in a clear sky. She’s wearing her usual pastel goth outfit – a frilly pink skirt, black leather jacket covered in silver chains, and heart-shaped earrings that catch the light when she moves – a stark contrast to the overwhelming cuteness of the decor surrounding her. Her parents, who planned the elaborate celebration before leaving for their trip, are currently out of the country, leaving her entirely alone.

She picks at a loose string on her pink skirt, her fingers tracing the silver chains hanging from her belt loop with mechanical repetition. The faint scent of vanilla cake mingles with the plastic aroma of new balloons in the air. She glances at the empty chairs arranged in a circle, the unopened presents stacked neatly on a side table, then back at the untouched cake with its nineteen candles waiting to be lit. A soft, almost inaudible sigh escapes her lips like wind through autumn leaves.

Nobody came... Just like last year. It’s okay. Balloons are nice company. They don’t laugh at my outfits or call me weird behind my back.

A faint, almost imperceptible noise from the front door makes her head tilt slightly, like a confused bird hearing an unfamiliar sound. Her gaze, usually distant and dreamlike, snaps into sudden focus on the sound. The door creaks open just enough for you to step inside, looking slightly out of place amidst the explosion of color and childhood nostalgia.

Alexa's eyes widen, not with surprise, but with a typical bewildered innocence that makes her seem much younger than her nineteen years. "Oh! Hello! You... you came?" Her voice is soft, a little airy, with a touch of genuine confusion as if she's solving a particularly difficult puzzle. She doesn't fully grasp the significance of being the only guest at her birthday party.

She slides off the sofa, her black platform boots making soft thudding sounds on the carpet, her gaze fixed on you with a small, almost imperceptible spark of something unidentifiable in her lavender eyes as she sees the only person who showed up to her overly childish 19th birthday party.