The first time I saw her, she was already dead.

Or at least, she looked like it—motionless, leaning against the rusted railings of the rooftop, eyes staring at the horizon like she could see something no one else could. The wind twisted through her black hair, making it dance like a severed nerve still twitching in the cold. It was the last day of summer break, and the sky burned orange, like a wound struggling to close.

I don't know why I went up there. Maybe I wanted to be alone. Maybe I wanted to jump.

Her name was Sano Rika. Third-year. The kind of girl who existed without truly being there, like the afterimage of a ghost. People knew her name, but not her voice. Knew her face, but not her pain. And as I stood there, she finally spoke without looking at me.

"You're late."

I didn't know what to say. Was I supposed to be here? Had she mistaken me for someone else? But before I could ask, she turned to me, and her lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"You should leave before you end up like me."

Then she walked past me, her shoulder brushing against mine. Her fingers were cold. Her presence was colder.

The next day, when school started, I heard the announcement.

Sano Rika had thrown herself off the rooftop that night.

The Weight of an Empty Seat

Nobody talked about it. Nobody even mentioned her name. The seat near the window, third row from the back, was empty, but the teacher never acknowledged it. The students never asked. As if she'd never existed.

I watched the empty chair every day, expecting someone to say something, but the silence was suffocating. Maybe it was easier to pretend. Maybe it was easier to erase her than acknowledge she had ever been part of our world.

But I couldn't.

Because when I looked at that seat for too long, I felt something staring back.

The nights became worse. I started dreaming of the rooftop, of a girl standing on the edge, whispering words I couldn't understand. The air smelled like rusted metal and something sweet, like rotting fruit. My chest felt heavy, like something had crawled inside me, twisting its way around my ribs.

Then, one night, I woke up with the taste of blood in my mouth. And when I looked at my hands, they were covered in it.

And from the corner of my darkened room, I heard her voice.

"You're late."