I wasn't sure if keeping his notebook was the right thing to do. Maybe it was just an innocent mistake, but was very possible that it could be interpreted as rude.

I didn't think so, I mean, I didn't want it to be lost. Specially knowing it would probably be important for him. I didn't need to tell him that I had read it, because I just wanted to do something nice for someone I didn't know. Even though the situation was a bit weird, it was also really sweet.

Well, maybe more than a little bit weird.

I had tried to decipher some of the other stuff, to make sense of the words and symbols, my eyes kept gravitating towards the image of the stop sign tho. It seemed to be mocking me, taunting me with its incessant spinning. Perhaps it was a sign, a message from the universe trying to communicate with me.

Or maybe it was just a product of my overactive imagination, a desperate attempt to find meaning in the mundane.

After all, he didn't even know I existed until the moment I startled him.

But hey, the fact that I had managed to capture the attention of the person who had previously ignored me was a sign of progress, a step towards a brighter future. Right?

Should I have been more annoyed at his reaction?

I guess the reason had to do with the fact that his demeanor was completely unexpected and out of the ordinary. Who talked like that? Who acted like that? It was as if he was from an entirely different planet. Either he was a master of deception, and his quirky behavior was all an act, or he was genuinely from another world. Call me naive, but I was determined to figure out the correct answer, even if it meant delving into the unknown depths of his mysterious persona.

The bus finally stopped and I scanned the seats looking for that one face I was hoping to see. And there he was, in the same spot as before, by the window. I couldn't help but grin at the sight of him. I was starting to worry he might have decided to take a different one. But nope, there he was, lost in thought and looking down at his hands.

I couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his mind. Maybe he was trying to decide something tough, or maybe he was just daydreaming. As I took my seat a few rows behind him, I felt a sense of curiosity.

I still remember this vividly. I walked towards him without caring about the bus moving and couldn't help but hold my breath in anticipation of what was to come. It was clear that he was lost in his own thoughts, completely unaware of my presence. I was hesitant at first, but finally mustered up the courage to speak. As soon as I opened my mouth, his attention was immediately diverted towards me. He looked surprised, I wasn't exactly sure if pleasantly. He quickly regained his composure and gave me his undivided attention.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," I said as calmly as humanly possible "You left this here."

As far as he was aware, I probably looked very calm and collected, but in reality, my heart was racing and my palms were sweating. I felt an overwhelming sense of nervousness that threatened to consume me. My mind kept replaying all the things that could go wrong, and I couldn't help but feel like something bad was about to happen.

Despite knowing how weirdly he had reacted last time, I couldn't shake off the feeling of wanting to see him again. Something inside my brain was pushing me towards him, and I didn't know how to resist it.

I handed him the notebook, its pages crisp and white in the sunlight, and he took it from my hands with a tenderness that seemed almost out of place. As if he were handling a fragile, precious object.

Our eyes met, and for a moment, I saw a glimmer of sadness in his gaze. It was a confusing emotion to witness, making me question what was the cause of it all.

Was it something to do with me, or was it related to something else entirely?

"How does it work?" he asked, holding the notebook with one hand. "Did I do something to trigger it?"

To say I was confused was a total understatement, I had to grab one of the handrails to not trip with the movement of the bus. I tried to force myself to sit down, but my brain wasn't responding to my orders.

"I have no idea what you..." I started, but a second afterwards his empty hand was touching my hair again. It was a strange sensation, like a feather brushing against my cheek. I could feel the warmth radiating from his hand and the gentle pressure as he moved it through my hair.

He had leaned all the way towards me, almost standing up himself, and was staring at me like I was a sculpture in a fancy museum. I felt a bit unnerved by his intense gaze, but also curious about what he was thinking. Either way, I couldn't deny the strange attraction I felt towards him, despite not knowing anything about who he was or why he acted like that.

"So real..." he whispered as he played with the strands between his fingers. My eyes met his gaze as he whispered, "Freckles, gray eyes". I was flattered by his compliment and felt my cheeks blush. He was so close that I had to hold my breath again, afraid I would exhale directly into his nose. "And the clothing. Kinda edgy. Makes sense, I like it." He inspected me as if I was one of those sketches in the notebook.

Was that really how I looked? In his lips, those words sounded like they were describing the fairest girl of the land. That was one of those days that I, at least, tried. I had brushed my hair, at least, the perks of having it so short was that I didn't have to do much to it. The leatherish skirt I was wearing wasn't bad either.

Was that style what he was really into?

He looked pretty edgy himself, dressed in all black, with necklaces and chains. It didn't make sense with his attitude tho, up close he seemed to be way more of a soft person than the first impression he gave out, judging by his clothing.

But he didn't stop staring, and even though his blue eyes were beautiful, it was starting to make me feel really uncomfortable.

I smiled awkwardly and moved my head further away, squinted and tried to see if his eyes denoted something else.

I smiled awkwardly, trying to diffuse the tension that I felt in the air. I shifted my head slightly away from him, hoping to create a bit of distance between us. As I looked into his eyes, I couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking.

Was there something else there that I was missing?

I squinted, trying to pick up on any subtle clues that might give me a hint. All the while, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more going on beneath the surface and I missed a very important part of the puzzle.

"Are there any pills that you have to take and forgot or something?" The question sounded rougher than what I expected coming from my lips, I cleared my throat. "I take a few, maybe it's the same".

I didn't want to sound pretentious, or like a bitch. My concern was very real, I knew how weird I would act whenever I would skip my pills by mistake and maybe that's what was happening. I wanter to think maybe it was that and not drugs, he looked like a bad boy but something in my gut told me it was just an act. Anyways, my first assumption of him being one of the weirdos was one thousand percent accurate.

Luckily for me, that made him all the more interesting.

"It can be tough to remember sometimes, but it's crucial to stay consistent with it. Have you considered setting reminders on your phone or using a pill organizer to help keep track?" I suggested, in my usual fashion of not knowing when to shut up.

A second afterwards I was digging through my purse, trying to find the pill bottles. For some reason it felt bigger than usual, stuff was slipping through my fingers.

"What? No! I mean yes. But also no!" He exclaimed, his voice rising in pitch. He shook his head in disbelief, as though he had just awoken from daydreaming. "Is that what this whole thing is about? Is my brain trying to tell me that I need to take my medication?"

He looked at me with a mix of shock and disappointment, as though he had just realized that he had forgotten something important. I couldn't help but feel confused and a little concerned about his mental state, wondering if there was something more going on beneath the surface.

"You are acting really weird dude. Like, extremely weird. You're cute and everything but..." I didn't even know what I was going to say, the movement of the bus forced me to sit next to him. He was also jolted to his seat "Ugh. Nevermind."

"I'm sorry I'm not used to this." He closed his eyes, he seemed more like thinking out loud that trying to make conversation. "Ugh... Redhead? No, that's not right. I should give you a name"

"A name?! I have a name!" At this point I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. "Chiara, that's it. I don't want any strange boys I meet randomly on the bus to be changing it."

"Why would you already have a name if I made you?" he asked in disbelief. His eyes widened as he tried to understand something that was probably beyond his comprehension. Every second that passed I felt like I was tripping. It was as if a whole new world had opened up before him.

I was flabbergasted.

"You-did-what?!" I gasped, blinking rapidly. "Listen, you better explain to me what's going on, because I'm starting to freak out." I took a deep breath, hoping that the additional context would help me better grasp the situation at hand. Hopefully I would be able to calm myself down again and just laugh at a stupid misunderstanding.

"Didn't I? Are you not... you know... self aware?" He examined me again with his eyes, his fingers tried to come closer for a second time but he stopped them. "Giving the fact that we're in my dream I only assumed it was my consciousness or something..."

This had to be a joke.

A weird sick joke from a weird sick dude. Despite my initial reaction of chuckling, I couldn't help but feel uneasy about the situation. I laughed in his face, but deep down, I was actually quite disturbed by what had just happened. Although the man didn't appear amused, he still smiled with a worried expression in his face.

"We are on the bus, look at everyone around us! What do you mean a dream?" I cleared my throat. "What do you mean your dream?"

And then I followed my own advice. I took a moment to really look around me, to observe the people that were surrounding us.

Some were gazing out the window, lost in thought, while others were staring blankly ahead. Despite my efforts to engage them in conversation, no one seemed to be paying attention or reacting in any way. It was as if they were all in a trance, moving like zombies or standing like mannequins. This eerie stillness made me wonder what was going on inside their heads and what kind of emotions they were experiencing. Perhaps they were simply lost in their own thoughts or preoccupied with personal problems.

Or maybe it was something more sinister, like a collective hypnosis or a mass brainwashing. I probably should stop reading so many sci-fi thrillers.

Whatever the case may be, it was clear that something was very wrong.

A chill ran down my spine.

I peered out the window, the thick fog enveloped us once again, obscuring the streetlights that appeared as mere blurry spheres in the distance. The dense mist seemed to shroud everything in a cloak of mystery, as if hiding secrets that were waiting to be uncovered. It felt surreal, too unreal. And suddenly his words started making more and more sense.

"Where the fuck am I?" I whispered, feeling sweat that was almost freezing cold run drip from my armpit. "Where does this bus go?"

I couldn't remember when I got on the bus, nor the last time I stepped down. Every single time my mind tried to wander and remember anything else that didn't happen on that bus, in that instant, it started fading away. I started trying to chase memory after memory, but they were too fast for me.

Gradually, his curious expression began to change into something much more disturbing. Doubt turned into a look that reflected the same fear that I felt. It was as if both of us were feeling the same sense of unease, a growing awareness of some terrible truth that we could not yet fully understand. Our eyes met, and I could see the same question in his eyes as I had in mine: what was happening, and what did it mean for us?

As we stood there, frozen in place, the silence around us only added to the sense of unease that was rapidly taking hold.

"Chiara? Chiara. Right?" He was trying so hard not to panic, just like I was. "I'm Jasper. Ok? I need you to calm down."

I didn't give a fuck about what he needed.

The next stop I felt a sudden urge to get off. I jolted out of my seat and ran to the front of the train, almost tripping over my own feet in the process. Despite my frantic movements, no one else on the train seemed to bat an eye.

Perhaps it was simply my own anxiety that was causing me to act this way. As I stood by the doors, waiting for them to open, I couldn't help but wonder why no one else was getting off the train. Was there something wrong with this stop? Was I making a mistake by leaving the comfort of the train? My mind raced with questions and doubts, but still the doors remained closed and not a single person stood up.

A small part of me, the stupidest part, actually thought that perhaps I wouldn't even find a driver when I walked to the front. I wasn't sure why my brain was actually entertaining the idea of it all being a dream. It was absolutely ridiculous.

But, to my relief and slight disappointment, the driver was there, sitting still like the other passengers, lost in his own thoughts. It was like he was a puppet controlled by his own mind, not paying attention to the world around him.

"Hey!" I said, trying not to show how panicked I was. "What's the next stop?"

No answer.

I tapped on the thick layer of translucent plastic that separated us, trying to get the attention of the driver on the other side. I couldn't help but feel a little anxious.

"Excuse me," I repeated, a little louder this time. "Can you tell me what the next stop is?"

Sweat poured down my face, drenching my forehead and cheeks with cold, sticky droplets. My tears mixed with the sweat, forming salty rivulets that streamed down my face.

In front of me, the bus driver sat silently, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. He gave no indication that he had heard me. It was as if I didn't even exist.

I wanted to run to the door and try to open it myself when I felt my crush's hand wrapping around my wrist. I could feel his fingers holding me in place. My mind raced as I tried to think of a way out of this situation. Would anyone hear me if I screamed for help? What if he was an actual psycho and I had put myself in danger by entertaining his ideas? All these thoughts swirled around in my head as I stood there, paralyzed with fear.

"Hey Chiara, Chiara? It's a dream," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes widened as he looked around. Almost felt like he was also realizing how shitty the situation was. His words started to make sense and I hated that. "I thought it was my dream specifically but..."

There we were, even though it seemed insane. There, standing in front of a bus full of inanimate automatons dressed like people, the only ones capable to react to our surroundings. I couldn't recognize the streets that showed outside the windows, they were lackluster imitations of ones that I was barely familiar with. The signs were written in gibberish, the dark blue of the sky looked a little bit too bright.

At that moment the only thing that made sense was the stranger in front of me, still holding onto my wrist.

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