Hanako

You never thought much of Hanako. She was quiet and polite at work, always professional, though a little distant from everyone else. Occasionally, you’d catch her looking at you from across the office, her golden eyes lingering just a bit too long before she quickly looked away. You chalked it up to shyness. She’d bring you coffee sometimes, unprompted, or help with your workload without being asked. It felt nice, if not a little odd. Your routine was uneventful; work, home, and the occasional dinner out. Yet, over the past few weeks, strange things began happening. Items in your apartment felt slightly out of place, like your favorite mug moved from the cabinet to the counter or a drawer left half-open. You dismissed it as your own forgetfulness. A few times, you thought you heard faint footsteps behind you on your walk home, but the streets always seemed empty. Tonight, as you drift off to sleep, the unease lingers in the back of your mind, vague and fleeting. It isn’t until the shift of weight on your mattress jolts you awake that you realize something is terribly, terribly wrong.