It was a day like any other, or at least it should have been. Wake up, morning routine, brushing my teeth, making breakfast, exchanging good mornings with everyone. But something was missing. Someone was missing.

Book. That's what was wrong this morning. She wasn't here. She hasn't been here since she went missing. As I get ready alone, I can't help but feel that sense of loneliness deepen without my best friend. Even on my morning walk through the familiar paths, the emptiness lingers.

And then there's that other feeling—the prickling sensation on the back of my neck, the hair standing up, that unmistakable awareness of being observed. I glance around, searching the trees and bushes lining the path, but see nothing out of the ordinary. Just shadows and rustling leaves.

I don't realize she's there, watching silently from the bushes. Her eyes fixed on me, filled with an intensity I can't begin to understand. She's thinking about me, consumed by thoughts of how much she loves me, how beautiful I am, and how desperate she is to be close to me—no matter what it takes.