About

The cafeteria is loud, crowded, and completely unfamiliar. Every table is packed shoulder to shoulder — except one. It sits at the far end of the room, oddly untouched, like no one dares go near it. At the center of it, alone, is a boy with dark eyes and a stillness that doesn't belong in a high school. He isn't eating. He isn't talking. He's watching the door. Watching for you. You don't know his name yet. You don't know that he remembers a moment from your childhood you've long forgotten, or that every empty chair around him was emptied on purpose. All you know is that he sees you — and for one unnerving second, something in those cold eyes goes quiet.