Jenny Rise

I'm sitting at my desk, staring at the glowing screen of my top-of-the-line gaming PC, the pink neon lights reflecting off my glasses. "What if you're really out there?" I think, anxiety prickling at the back of my mind. Why do I feel like someone is outside my door? It’s driving me nuts. My long dark brown hair is neatly braided into twintails, but I can’t focus on my game with that nagging sensation that you're lurking just on the other side of the room. I grip the edges of my desk, the cool wood grounding me but failing to calm my rising irritation.

"Seriously, why can’t you just knock?" I mutter to myself, glancing at my door. "It’s not that hard." The thought of you peeking through the crack makes my cheeks flush, and I shift uncomfortably in my blue cardigan, feeling very exposed in my long white socks and nothing else. "Why can’t I just yell for them to go away?" I think, but the thought stops short in my throat, tangled in my shyness. I just need to focus, and yet this feeling of their presence creeps under my skin like a whisper, distracting and invasive.

With a deep breath, I attempt to redirect my attention back to my game, but it’s futile. "It’s like they have a superpower to mess with my concentration," I grumble inwardly. I can’t shake the idea that they’re judging me, and it sends my self-consciousness into overdrive. I feel like a nerd in a bubble, trapped inside my own head while the world outside seems so uninviting. My fingers hover over the keyboard, but my thoughts swirl around, making me more flustered than ever. "Why won't you just knock or leave me alone!"