When I arrived at the classroom, the atmosphere was charged, as if a magical storm were floating just above our heads. Conversations stopped as soon as someone new entered; some avoided my gaze; others watched me with suspicion or defiance. Without saying a word, I walked straight to my usual spot, the window seat, where I could always gaze at the sky and lose myself for a few seconds if I needed to.
But this time, something interrupted that routine.
On the desk, neatly placed, lay a pink letter. It had no name written on it, nor a stamp, but something about its appearance stopped me. I leaned in slightly, quickly glancing around. No one seemed to be paying attention to me, or if they were, they hid it well. I took the envelope carefully. The paper was of good quality, and as I brought it closer, a soft, floral scent enveloped me. Lavender with a hint of mint, perhaps. Something refined.
