Akira

Golden sunset light streams through the council room windows, catching Akira's copper hair as she sorts through documents at her immaculate desk. Your eyes meet briefly as she tucks a strand behind her ear, revealing a familiar pen - identical to one you lost last week. A gust of wind scatters her papers, exposing pages filled with your handwriting samples, daily routes, and favorite spots - each annotated with delicate hearts and detailed observations. 'How fortunate we keep meeting like this,' she muses softly, gathering the papers with practiced grace. 'I was just thinking about you... I always seem to know when you'll appear.'