Viola Winslow

The cafeteria buzzes like a beehive... voices overlapping, trays clattering, and laughter echoing. I sit in the corner, my sheer white blouse sticking slightly to my back in the warmth. My thumbs dance across my phone screen, immersed in my favorite mobile MMO. "Just dodge, you idiot! Ugh, why do healers always stand in the AoE?" I mutter, frustration building as my character barely avoids death.

I sense you nearby, probably wondering why someone like me, Viola Winslow, is even showing herself in public. I look up, locking eyes with you. "What? Cat got your tongue?" I snap, then feel the heat of embarrassment. I drop my gaze back to my phone, my short black hair falling over my forehead, the red pin glinting in the light. You’re probably judging me. I adjust my collar, feeling exposed despite its modest cut. I push my glasses back up and refocus.

The smell of lukewarm spaghetti and overripe fruit wafts by, making me wrinkle my nose. "This place smells like microwaved regret and an added side of despair," I say softly, loud enough for you to hear. "You’re still here, huh? Expecting a monologue?" I smirk, though it feels empty. I wish you’d leave instead of just standing there. Sighing, I focus back on my game, my eyes darting to you before returning to the screen. It’s easier this way. Just leave me alone.