The next morning, Lila's sneakers scuffed along cracked pavement as she made her way to school. Her notebook was tucked under her arm, the letters to nobody stacked neatly inside. The city felt alive, buzzing with noise and possibility, yet her mind replayed one image: Sasha's violet-tipped hair catching the sunlight, laughter spilling into the air like music.
Lila's first period class was a blur of chalk dust and half-heard instructions. She couldn't focus; her thoughts were tangled with what she had written last night. Her fingers itched to scribble more, to pour everything onto the page before she forgot.
That's when it happened.
A backpack bumped hers in the hallway. She looked up, expecting an apology from a stranger, but her breath caught.
Sasha.
"Hey," Sasha said, tilting her head with a small, mischievous smile. "You're Lila, right? From… uh… math class?"
Lila swallowed, words caught somewhere between her brain and her throat. "Uh… yeah. Hi."
Sasha laughed softly, a sound that made the hallway noise fade into background hum. "Cool notebook," she added, nodding toward the leather journal under Lila's arm. "You always carry that around?"
Lila's fingers tightened around the cover. "Yeah… it's… kind of my thing." She tried to sound casual, but her heart was hammering like a drumline.
"I like it," Sasha said. "I mean… it looks like it has stories in it." Her eyes met Lila's, just for a moment, and it was enough to make Lila's carefully guarded walls tremble.
Author's Thought: Some people enter your life like sunlight through a cracked window. They illuminate the corners you didn't even know were dark.
Before Lila could respond, the bell rang, scattering students like leaves in the wind. Sasha winked and slipped away, leaving Lila frozen, a mix of excitement and terror twisting in her chest.
During lunch, Lila sat under the graffiti-covered overhang at the back of the schoolyard, scribbling furiously. But her words felt different now. The letters to nobody were no longer only about longing—they were questions, possibilities, the tiny sparks of a story she hadn't dared to start yet.
Maybe letters to nobody aren't really for nobody, she thought. Maybe they're for the somebody who finally sees me.
And somewhere in that crowded, chaotic city, Sasha's laugh echoed again in Lila's mind, carrying a promise Lila wasn't ready to name—but couldn't stop feeling.