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The way she listened. Really listened.

Most people wait for their turn to talk. But not her.

She makes me feel like I’m worth paying attention to.

I exhale slowly, shifting in my seat.

Get it together.It was coffee.That’s it.

By the time I pull into the driveway, I’ve almost convinced myself of that. Almost.

I siton the couch and grab my laptop, determined to be productive.

The first thing I do is check my emails. There’s a spreadsheet attached to one of them.

I open it with a sense of contentment. This is where I thrive. Numbers don’t change unless you make them.

They don't surprise you.

They don't look at you the way Violet does.

I don't think anyone ever has.

I stare at the screen.

Why am I still thinking about this?

I grit my teeth, trying to focus.

But the intrusive thought slips in anyway.Because she’s not like anyone you’ve met.

It’s accurate, annoying… and true.

I force myself to refocus, pulling up a client file. My eyes zero in on the numbers. Checking over the data.

It’s something real. Something I can connect to. Something I can control.

But even as I start working, my attention drifts back to her.

Her voice echoes inside my ears.“You think before you speak. You know what you want.”

My fingers pause over the keyboard. I frown slightly. That one sticks.

Most people don’t pick up on that. Hell, most people don’t care enough to try.

But she said it so easily. Like she already knew.

A slow, uneasy feeling settles in my chest.

Something about her is… off.

I think about lying in bed last night. That feeling again… like someone was watching me.

I stayed there for a few minutes, then got up to check my door. Mr. Pickles has gotten it open before. But this time, it was fully latched.

I checked under my bed. Inside the closet.

Nothing.