The next day Eli gives me the notebook to take home.

The notebook’s still in my backpack when I get home.

I toss it on my desk and try to forget about it while I shower, eat, scroll. But it just sits there—gray, beat-up, kind of accusing.

Finally, I sit down and flip it open.

It starts with a forest.

Of course it does.

But this one’s not drawn—it’s described. Words like fractured and hollow. Trees that twist toward each other like they’re trying to hide something in the middle. A figure standing at the center, face turned away, cloaked in wind and silence.

It’s weird.

And it’s really, really good.

I keep reading. There’s no plot yet. Just this sense of loneliness and pressure, like something’s about to break. It’s all emotion, no armor. No fake coolness. It’s… honest.

Then I see the line at the bottom:

“Your turn. Don’t ruin it.”

I smirk.

Challenge accepted.

I grab a pen, and before I can overthink it, I write:

“He wasn’t sure what the figure was hiding from—wolves, maybe. Or people. Or himself.

He took a step into the trees anyway. Not to save him. Just to see if he’d look up.”

I stare at it for a second. Then close the notebook and toss it back into my bag.

I don’t know why I care what he thinks.

But I kind of do.