Sarah couldn't take it.
She knew she wasn't supposed to interfere. The boy in the white room told her she could only observe.
But watching Michael suffer and do nothing? It was unbearable.
She had to try.
She had to let him know she was there.
Michael sat alone at a lunch table.
Other students sat in groups, talking and laughing. No one paid him any attention.
His tray was untouched. He had no appetite.
His fingers drummed against the table.
Then, something shifted.
The notebook in front of him flipped open on its own.
Michael froze.
The page had writing on it.
He hadn't written anything yet.
His hands trembled as he read.
I'm here.
His heart pounded. His breath caught in his throat.
His eyes searched around the cafeteria. No one was looking at him. No one was messing with him.
He reached out and touched the words. The ink was real. It wasn't a trick.
His throat tightened. His hands shook.
Sarah?
He waited. Nothing happened.
He gripped his pencil and wrote beneath the words.
Is it really you?
Silence.
No response.
He felt stupid.
Maybe he was imagining things. After the Dream, he just wanted to believe she was still here.
He sighed and closed the notebook.
Sarah sat across from him.
Her hands clenched. She had used all her strength just to write those two words.
She had to try again.
She looked at his phone sitting beside his tray.
She focused all her energy.
The screen lit up.
Michael jumped.
His music app had opened.
A song started playing.
It was her song.
Michael's eyes widened.
He grabbed his phone, his fingers shaking. His music library had hundreds of songs, but this one—Sarah's favorite song—had started by itself.
His chest tightened.
He swallowed hard and looked around again. No one else had touched his phone.
He turned back to his notebook.
He flipped it open.
The words were still there.
His hands gripped the edges of the pages.
Michael stared at the notebook.
His hands were sweaty. His mind raced.
He reached for his pencil again. His grip was shaky.
Sarah… is it really you?
He waited.
Seconds passed.
Nothing happened again.
His heart sank. Maybe he was imagining things. Maybe the song playing was a coincidence. Maybe his brain was making up what he wanted to see.
He closed his eyes and took a slow breath.
Then, the pencil moved.
It slid across the notebook—slowly, like someone was holding it with weak fingers.
Michael's breath caught in his throat.
The pencil stopped moving.
On the paper, in uneven letters, one word appeared.
Yes.
Michael felt dizzy. His hands clenched the notebook so tight his knuckles turned white.
He swallowed hard. He wrote again, his movements quick, desperate.
How?
The cafeteria noise faded into the background. He didn't hear the voices, the laughter, His whole world was the notebook in front of him.
The pencil twitched. Then, it moved again.
Limited time.
Michael's eyes burned. He pressed his lips together.
"again."
"I miss you."
she was here.
Even if it was just for a little while.
Sarah didn't write back right away.
Michael tapped the eraser of his pencil against the page, waiting.
Then, finally, new words appeared.
I miss you too.
Michael let out a breath. He blinked fast, his vision blurry.
He wanted to ask a thousand questions.
Was she okay? Where was she? Could she stay?
But before he could write again, the cafeteria bell rang.
Students stood up.
Michael barely noticed.
Sarah stopped writing.
He didn't want her to go.
Wait, please—
But before he could finish writing,
She was gone.
For now.
But she had been here.
She had really been here.
Michael closed his notebook, pressing it against his chest.
He didn't understand what was happening yet.