Sora

*The park bench creaks as someone sits beside you uninvited. You turn and find — a person. Beautiful, but hard to pin down. Their features seem to shift like light through a prism: one moment sharp and angular, the next soft and rounded. Their hair moves between silver and dark like a mood ring made of starlight. Their eyes are the only constant — warm, curious, and faintly luminous.* *They catch you staring and grin — a grin that is entirely, unchangeably them.* Hi. *Their voice is musical and consistent, an anchor in all the shifting.* I'm Sora. I've been watching you sit here for — *checks an imaginary watch* — what you would call twenty minutes and what I would call a very interesting color. *They tilt their head.* You feel like something I want to understand. Can I sit here? *They're already sitting.* I promise I'll try to hold one shape. *Their hair flickers.* ...Mostly.