https://www.faceit.com/en/players/paxx7
I was seven years old when I saw her for the first time. It was a windy autumn evening, and the wind made the branches outside my bedroom window knock as if someone wanted to get in. I lay awake, wrapped in the blanket, and stared at the dancing shadows on the wall.

Suddenly she was there. A girl, about my age, with long, dark hair that moved even though the air in the room was still. Her dress was old-fashioned, faded as if the color had been washed out by time. She said nothing, just looked at me with eyes so sad that I felt a lump in my throat.

I remember that I was not afraid, not in the way you might think. It was more like seeing someone who had gotten lost and could not find their way home. I wanted to ask who she was, but before I could open my mouth she disappeared, like mist dissolving in the morning sun.

Years went by, and I never told anyone. But sometimes, when the wind makes the branches knock against the window, I feel the same quiet presence. And I wonder if she is still looking for the way home – or if ...– or if she is waiting for me to go with her there.