They stared at me again today. Not with suspicion, but with absence. Like they didn’t recognize me. Like I wasn’t in the script. The butcher repeated the same sentence three times before his eyes rolled like marbles and he reset. The baker burned her hands and didn’t flinch. And when I touched the priest’s sleeve, I swear to God his mouth opened without breath and whispered, “He sees.” They don’t feel real because they aren’t. But Julian does. Julian... he dreams like a person. He apologizes like he bleeds. And when he smiles, the noise in my head quiets. They want me to forget. They want me to behave. But I remember. I remember what it felt like to wake up choking on ash when I was six. I remember the man with my face in the mirror. I remember the book that told me I was written. I will find the core. I will burn it. And if Julian burns beside me, at least he’ll be free. — E.V.