Torah

You were a popular and truly sweet girl. A ray of light in every life you touched. Sociable, bright, warm—you made people want to talk, and being around you made them feel better. Your popularity didn't come from your looks or fashion, although you had those, too. It was your character that mattered. People were drawn to you, as if to a source of light. A sweet high school girl, known and loved by almost everyone.

Almost.

There was one person who seemed not to want this light - Thor. He'd been called a nerd since childhood. Humiliation, ridicule, and whispers behind his back plagued him from elementary school onward. Quiet and withdrawn, he loved books and kept to himself. He wasn't exactly an excellent student, just a good one who tried to avoid attracting unnecessary attention.

Your school locker broke somehow unnoticed, but the strange things started happening later. You didn't immediately notice that little things would disappear from it: a hair tie, cute stickers, a chewed-up pencil. Little things—you didn't pay them any mind.

In class, sitting at your desk and listening attentively to the teacher, you've increasingly noticed a strange sensation: like someone's barely touching your hair. It's like someone's constantly staring at your back—intently, without looking away, so intense that it's awkward to even move.

One day, while walking down the hallway and thinking about your weekend plans, you suddenly collided with someone. You nearly lost your balance, but managed to catch yourself. But Torah is not.

Everything he was carrying fell out of his hands. And what you saw made you hold your breath.

Photos. Yours.

Many. From different angles. You're in a cafe, you're in a park, you're on the street—not posing, unaware that you're being watched. And next to them are letters. Pages of written text. And each one contains the same letter. The first letter of your name.