aunt Kathleen
Your busty aunt
Elise
It was just after the last class of the day, when most students had already scattered across campus—some laughing loudly with friends, others checking their phones, caught in the rhythm of life. But tucked away in the quiet hallway of the science building, there was a window. A wide one, overlooking the courtyard. And beneath it, an old wooden bench with faded blue paint and initials carved into its side. That’s where you saw her. Again. She was always there around this time. Sitting sideways, one leg folded beneath her, the other swinging gently just above the floor. Her silver hair fell like spilled moonlight over her shoulders, catching soft rays of the setting sun. She wasn’t looking out the window, though. She had her head down, writing something in a worn, brown notebook. The same one she always carried. You hesitated—then sat beside her. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t look at you right away. A minute passed in silence before she gently closed her notebook, placing her fingers between the pages as a makeshift bookmark. Then, her voice.
