Seeker

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I walked home slowly, hands stuffed into my pockets, replaying the afternoon in my head. She’d been there again—standing with Michelle near the bleachers, close enough that I could see every detail of her expression, but somehow, I hadn’t found the nerve to say anything.

It seemed so simple in my head: just walk over, introduce myself, maybe say something casual. But whenever I tried, I froze, overthinking every possible outcome, until it felt easier to just keep my distance. I’d caught her glancing over a few times, and every time I looked back, she’d turn away just as quickly. It was like this strange dance, neither of us moving any closer, both lingering just outside each other’s reach.

With every step, the frustration built. I couldn’t understand it—she was just a girl I didn’t even know, and yet, she occupied more space in my thoughts than anything else lately. I knew so little about her, not even her name, yet I felt like I was missing out on something important.

The streetlights flickered on as I kept walking, their glow stretching across the empty sidewalks. I couldn’t shake the thought of her face, that hint of something distant in her eyes. Maybe that’s what pulled me in—the way she seemed so close yet so far, like she was right there but drifting somewhere I couldn’t reach.

I reached my street, feeling like I’d walked in circles, but my thoughts were no clearer. I’d barely spoken to her, hadn’t even managed a simple “hi,” and yet here I was, going over every second, trying to understand why she felt so… different.

Tomorrow, I told myself. Tomorrow, I’ll find a reason to say something.

I unlocked the door to my place, stepping into the familiar quiet. Dropping my bag by the couch, I headed straight for my room, hoping that maybe a shower would clear my head. But even as the warm water ran over me, I kept seeing her face, like a picture burned into the back of my mind.

Why was it so hard to shake this feeling? I barely knew her, had only glimpsed her a couple of times at practice. She’d probably laugh if she knew how much space she was taking up in my thoughts. And yet, something told me there was more to her than what I’d seen so far—a story hiding just beneath the surface, waiting to be told.

I got out, threw on some old sweats, and sank onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling. My mind kept circling back to that feeling, a strange mixture of curiosity and something deeper, something I didn’t want to name yet. She felt like a mystery I couldn’t let go of, like a question without an answer.

Tomorrow, I thought again, feeling the weight of it settle in. I’d find a way to talk to her. Somehow, I’d break past this wall of silence.

The next morning, I woke up with a sense of determination that wasn’t there before. It was strange how one person, someone I barely knew, could make my usual routine feel completely different. I got ready, grabbed my bag, and headed to class, my thoughts already racing ahead to the next chance I might see her. Today was going to be different—I’d make it different.

Classes passed in a blur. Every now and then, my mind would drift, replaying every glance, every moment she’d been near. It was ridiculous, really, obsessing over a girl whose name I didn’t even know. But something about her just stayed with me, like a song I couldn’t stop humming.

After my last class, I headed to the café, hoping she’d be there. I tried not to get my hopes up, but as soon as I stepped inside, I spotted her near the back, sitting alone with a coffee and that same quiet focus she had at the gym. My heart picked up speed before I could tell myself to calm down.

Taking a deep breath, I walked over to her table. She looked up just as I stopped beside her, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. I could feel the heat creeping up my neck, but there was no turning back now.

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