SERAPHINA:
“So… do you have a name?” I ask the security guard in an attempt to break the uneasy silence. Campus is eerily still, the crunching of our footsteps in the snow is the only sound piercing the quiet.
“Oh. Well… you can call me Cass, I guess,” the herculean land-mass responds absently. He’s still scanning our surroundings like a predator in the savannah. I study his perfectly designed features. This guy should be a model, not a security guard on a tiny college campus. I wonder what his story is.
“Well, thanks for looking out for me, Cass.” I can’t think of anything else to say. I’m longing for this painfully stilted conversation to be over.
“It’s just my job, your highness.” He answers absently.
Highness? This guy must be off his rocker.
The word seems to shake me awake. The
