57

WILLOW

Those blue eyes reminded me of the thief from that night, my face goes pale and the blue eyed boy holds me thinking i am about to fall down. My heartbeat quickens, each thud echoing the growing intensity of my apprehension. The air feels heavier, as if infused with the weight of my anxieties. I trace the source of my fear, but it eludes definition, a shape-shifting specter that refuses to be named. My hands, once steady, betray the turmoil within. Fingers tremble slightly as I try to grasp onto something tangible, something to anchor me in this sea of uncertainty.

Yet, the fear seems to seep into my very bones, rendering me powerless against its encroachment.

"Are you okay?" He asks and Luciano moves me closer to him. He eyes the boy and a face I have never seen before takes hold on Luciano's face.

"You don't know me?" I ask and he nods his head.

"You are mistaking me for someone else," He says and I hear his French accent.

"Oh, I am terribly sorry, I thought you were someone