.... ....

Two weeks pass after the stranger incident, and I barely have time to sit with all the open house arrangements going on. The council has decided that I and the other student prefects are in charge of mobilizing students and sourcing food.

I have no issue with food, I just don't want to talk to students. I mean, what would I say "Make sure to participate in a club and be nice to freshmen, so the club can get more funds". Like that I'll get weird stares from everybody.

I focus on what I can actually do. Take stocks and give updates on the food inventory. The snacks and drinks are going to be stored in the Art studio. The thoughts of those creepy sounds I heard the last time linger at the back of my mind, but I have a job to do.

I open the art studio and scan the room. The only thing it's filled with are art supplies, paint buckets and donkey benches. Realizing, I have to do this alone, I start off by stacking the benches at another side of the room while thinking of the dusting I'll have to do.

"Thud" the door closes. And I'm left to wonder what ghost inhabits this place.

I hear footsteps and feel a little disappointed, not ghosts, just humans.

As I turn around to address the newcomer my voice gets caught in my throat.

"I-it-it's that guy from the meeting."

He saunters in comfortably, as if he doesn't sense the tension in the air. I move out of his way and head to the door. I hate confrontations. Even worse. I hate the fact I want to revert to old me. I want to END HIM. HE SHOULD BE SCARED OF ME.

"Stop" he calls out.

I hate that I do, but I do.

"What?"

"I-I'm sorry"

Now I turn around. I don't know what happened to this boy or who he might've been swapped with but I'm not buying it.

"For what?"

He turns slightly to face me and I can see he looks a little flushed.

"For what I did to you after the meeting. I transferred here last month and you looked like someone I knew. Someone... I thought I knew. I'm sorry you had the same name and glasses, I thought for sure I had the right person. I'm so sorry I got you mixed up . "

Time seems to stand still as the room settles into an awkward silence.

I simply stare. I had never been distantly related to anyone in looks. My figure and personality stood out as 'different' and sometimes I liked that. Now, I want to ask if I can not be "different".

I take a look at him and walk out. I have no words to give, none to take and I don't believe any of it.

I just want this story to stop existing. We never met, I don't look like anyone, and I don't need to look like anyone for someone to notice my existence.

I don't know why this bothers me, but it does. I'm grateful he's not a serial killer but I'm also reminded of the fact that I'm a nobody. A nobody mistaken for a somebody.

There goes my self-esteem....