The Girl Who Didn’t Exist

College felt normal in the worst way—loud, awkward, already routine. I met Lila about

a week in, sitting alone outside the student union, scrolling like she was waiting for

something to happen. I sat down because it felt easier than forcing small talk somewhere else.

She smiled like we already knew each other. Coffee turned into walking,

walking turned into sitting somewhere quiet too late. She leaned against me like it was familiar,

and I remember thinking how easy it felt. The second date is when things went wrong.

She asked where I lived. I told her. Later, she asked again.

When I joked about it, she laughed too hard. At one point she