You are with Celia. Her eyes flash invitingly and she twirls her red hair around her fingers. You catch her hand and pull her to you, but she shoves you away harder than necessary. "Cut it out," she says frowning. You laugh and open your arms to her. She hesitates, then grudgingly steps into your embrace, which she does not return. You bury your nose in her hair. She smells like perfume and lavender shampoo.
There is a crash outside and a loud yelp. You wake with a start. Maybe Bernard has gotten into trouble again, you think before your sleep-addled brain remembers that Bernard, like Celia, is gone.
11th place (out of 35) in the 14th Annual Interactive Fiction Competition.
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