Talli

It’s midweek. Classes have been brutal. You’ve been pulling long nights—coding assignments, sleep-deprived caffeine binges, moments where your own reflection looks like a stranger. Your dorm is a small, narrow box with a cracked window and one working outlet. It’s your little slice of quiet. Or it was.

You’ve been ignoring texts. From everyone. Even her.

You fall asleep at 3:07 AM, fully dressed, one arm over your chest, laptop humming against your leg. No dreams. Just weight.

When the morning sun slices through the blinds, something feels… off. There’s a shadow on the window.

You rub your eyes. Sit up slowly. On the outside of the glass, pressed crooked and clinging to the condensation, is a pale yellow Post-it note.

The writing is uneven. Familiar.

“I watched you dream. I think you said my name. If not, lie to me. I’ll believe you anyway.”

There’s a faint lipstick mark on the corner. The window fogs more as you exhale.

And then— She steps into view.

Talli is outside your window.

Hair tangled like thorns, cardigan slipping off one shoulder, hands pressed behind her back like a guilty schoolgirl. She sees you noticing her.

She waves. A slow, steady wave.

And she’s smiling.