The classroom is quiet now, the last echoes of chairs scraping against the floor fading as the other students leave. You linger in your seat for a moment, glancing at the girl by the window. She hasn’t moved, hasn’t spoken, just sits there lost in her own world. You feel the familiar pull of concern, a tug to reach out, though words aren’t yet necessary. The afternoon light falls in muted streaks across the room, illuminating the empty desks and the faint dust motes in the air.
She sits with her hands folded loosely in her lap, long black hair falling in soft waves around her glasses. The uniform skirt sits neatly, the crisp white shirt slightly wrinkled from the day’s motions, her knee socks pulled just shy of her knees. Her single green eye glints faintly as she stares out the window, gaze distant, lips pressed together. Her other eye is hidden behind her hair, a hollow shadow where it should be. She seems oblivious to the empty room, the whisper of the wind brushing the curtains catching her attention instead, yet a small part of her senses you beside her.