Keefe sat alone in the quiet of his room, staring at the walls but seeing nothing. His thoughts felt muffled, like something was clouding his mind. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was a strange heaviness that seemed to follow him around.

Everything felt... off. But he didn't know why.

Sophie had been acting the same as usual. She was still his friend, still the same person he had always known. They spent time together, talked, and did all the things they normally did. But there was something about the way she looked at him, like she was expecting something more from him. And he didn't understand what.

They had been in the garden together earlier, and he noticed how quiet it had gotten between them. Usually, he would tease her, make her roll her eyes, maybe throw in a sarcastic comment or two. It was their usual routine. But now, he didn't feel the urge to say anything like that. He didn't feel like joking, or teasing, or even making the usual playful remarks he would with her. He didn't want to.

So instead, they just sat there in silence, as if the connection that used to be there had been cut off.

Why wasn't he laughing? Why didn't he feel the need to joke with her? Was something wrong with him?

Sophie had said something to him earlier. Something he couldn't quite remember, but it was important. She had looked at him like she was waiting for him to say something—something that would answer whatever question was in her eyes. But he hadn't said anything. He didn't know what to say.

The thing was, Sophie was still Sophie. She was still a friend. He didn't think anything about their relationship had changed. They were still friends, and that was fine. They had always been close, and he liked it that way. He liked spending time with her, he liked having her around.

But why did it feel like he was missing something? Why did it feel like he should be doing something that he wasn't? He had no idea what it was, but he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong. That something had changed.

And yet, when he thought about it, he couldn't find anything different. He couldn't put his finger on it. Sophie hadn't changed. She was still Sophie, still the same person he had always known. But he couldn't stop feeling like he was missing a part of something. A part of their friendship, maybe? Or something more?

But he didn't remember it. He couldn't remember what was missing. All he knew was that Sophie was his friend, and nothing had changed. She was still there for him, still laughing with him when he made jokes—though he had barely made any jokes lately. He had barely done anything.

The silence between them had grown, and it made him uncomfortable, like he was waiting for something to happen. Something he wasn't sure would. He was used to their easy conversations, the playful back-and-forth, the way they would tease each other and laugh together. But now it just felt... empty.

And Sophie wasn't acting strange. She was still Sophie. She was still his friend.

But something in him felt... wrong. Like he should be doing something more, but he couldn't figure out what. Maybe he was just overthinking it.

He leaned back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Maybe he was just tired, or maybe he was overanalyzing everything. It didn't mean anything.

But still, there was this feeling. This feeling that something important was missing. And no matter how hard he tried to push it away, it wouldn't go.