—I'm absolutely sure —I tell Anne, looking into her eyes.
—Claire... Come on, you know it's not real —my friend says, taking a sip of the milkshake her mother brought us a couple of minutes ago.
—Yes, I know it's crazy, but I know what I saw, I know I saw Luka outside my window last night.
I know it wasn't an illusion or an imagination of mine, outside my window and in the middle of the darkness, I know I saw him, looking at me too.
Still looking skeptical, Anne asks me: —And why would Luka be in your yard at 2 am hiding behind some trees?
—I don't know, and that's what worries me because I'm afraid that Luka was trying to tell me something, that he was trying to talk to me about what happened before he disappeared.
—That doesn't make sense, it happened so long ago, why would he wan
