The college library was a haven of hushed whispers and turning pages, steeped in the golden glow of a late afternoon sun. I sat at my usual corner table by the tall window, my textbooks splayed open before me, but my mind was miles away, drifting on the currents of unspoken thoughts. Last night had stolen my sleep, leaving my eyelids heavy, so I succumbed, just for a moment, resting my head on my folded arms.

I didn't dream, not truly, but when I stirred back to consciousness, the world felt subtly altered. The sunlight had shifted, painting new patterns on the floor. A gentle breeze, cool and light, slipped through the half-open window, brushing softly against my cheek.

And then I saw it. A small, neatly folded note, resting atop my open notebook. My heart gave a quiet, curious thump. I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, a question forming on my lips: Had someone been here? I hadn't heard a sound. The library remained in its peaceful hush, disturbed only by the distant rustle of pages.

Slowly, I reached out, my fingers tracing the delicate folds of the paper. It felt thick, slightly aged, and the handwriting was precise, elegant—the script of someone who cherished words. I unfolded it, my gaze falling upon the lines:

"To the one who will listen Stars shine brighter in the darkest skies. Love, too, finds its way quietly, like starlight slipping through clouds. If you're reading this, know that I am near. When the moon is full, look up - you might see me." -R

I held the note, rereading it, the words echoing in the quiet space. It felt like a secret, a whisper from someone I hadn't met, yet somehow, already knew. I glanced around, but no one seemed to notice, no one seemed to care. It was as if time itself had paused, just for this letter to appear. A soft, unsure smile touched my lips, tinged with curiosity. And then, slowly, a response began to form in my mind.