Alex sat in their dimly lit room, the faint hum of the outside world muffled by the walls that felt more like a barrier than a comfort. The day's events played on a loop in their mind, but one thought stood out, lingering like an unanswered question: Emma.
They couldn't quite shake the way she spoke to them, the softness in her tone, the way her words seemed to carry a warmth Alex wasn't used to. Was it genuine? Or was it the kind of niceness people offered out of politeness, an act performed without true investment?
Leaning back in their chair, Alex stared at the ceiling, the shadows from the streetlights outside dancing across the cracks in the plaster. Why does it even matter? they thought, but the question lingered regardless.
Emma had a way of breaking through Alex's usual defenses, but that didn't mean Alex knew how to handle it. People could be kind without reason, couldn't they? Or was there always something they wanted in return?
Alex flipped open their notebook, hoping to drown the noise in their head with ink and paper. Words spilled out before they could think too hard:
"What does it mean to be nice? Is it instinct, like holding a door for someone, or does it always come with an expectation? Do people really care, or is it just a reflex—like saying 'bless you' after a sneeze? Emma...she feels different. But that scares me more. Can I trust what feels real?"
The notebook didn't offer any answers, but writing the words gave Alex a strange sense of relief. They leaned forward, resting their head in their hands, and let out a sigh.
Emma's face flashed in their mind, the way her grin had softened when she caught Alex staring. She'd asked, "Is something wrong?" with genuine curiosity, no edge of judgment or impatience.
Alex frowned. Maybe that was what unsettled them the most. It wasn't just niceness—it was her presence, her willingness to linger in their orbit without demanding anything in return. It felt too good to be true.
They closed their notebook and stood, pacing the room. Maybe tomorrow will give me an answer, Alex thought. But for now, all they had were questions—and the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, Emma was as real as she seemed.