A R I A
It starts with a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I've had off days before—mornings where the world feels tilted and I can't quite place why—but today's different. There's a heaviness in the air, a pressure that lingers like something's watching me from just outside my line of vision.
I try to shake it as I walk back from the campus library, hugging my books to my chest, headphones in but not playing anything. I just need the illusion of distance. The walk home is usually uneventful, a quiet stretch of sidewalk that gives me a moment to breathe. But today it feels longer. Every sound behind me makes my shoulders tense.
When I round the corner onto my street, I stop.
Jasper is standing in front of the house.
Just standing there.
He hasn't seen me yet, or maybe he has
