Njuli sat in a leather chair for an hour, sketching notes in preparation for a close meeting scheduled for 4:30 p.m. He was a school principal, who rarely worked on his laptop without glasses. He had long hung his bald head and stared at his laptop screen, hating typing because each time he typed it slowed down and eventually put strain on his arms.

It was hot in his white office that afternoon; the fan was broken and needed repair and so was his bushy grey beard that was in despair.

A light cold breeze crept into his office, refreshing his sweat-coated face, but he didn’t pay much attention to who was accompanying that breeze. As he continued typing, the scent of the pine forest filled his nostrils until two knocks on the desk reached his ears. He stopped typing. He raised his head, letting his suspicious eyes roam around the room. He didn’t catch a glimpse of anyone.

Frustratingly, he let out a sigh. “Who knocked on my desk!?” he asked, but it was as if he was talking alone in this office.

He elevated from his chair, scratched his pot belly, and went out into the hallway to look for someone who he assumed knocked on his desk. He was shocked to see a girl in a soiled white dress, like a tent, walking towards a door with a green exit sign. Njuli immediately concluded that the girl was not his student because she was barefoot and she was wearing casual clothes that were different from the school’s yellow shirt and blue skirt uniform.

“Hello! Girl! Were you the one who knocked on my desk?” Njuli queried, his monkstraps squeaking on the tiles as he dashed towards the strange girl.

The girl did not answer his question. She did not look around either. Her braids, as white as chalk, were long and straight like a waterfall, reaching all the way to her waist—this made it difficult for Njuli to see temples of her face.

He approached her, grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. Like he expected, she was clearly a teenager. Her beauty was extreme that Njuli was so awed by her that he cleared his throat and became robotic. He looked her down from head to toe for a good minute, wondering where her extraordinary looks came from. Her eyes were pure blue and white, very round and glassy; Njuli could clearly see himself reflected in those eyes. Her skin was a shade of honey, which proved to Njuli that she was indeed sweet in appearance.

“Hello,” said Njuli, doing his best to soften his voice.

Despite the greeting, the girl remained transfixed with her dry pink lips which seemed to crave water and food. Her eyes were now focused on the gold watch that surrounded Njuli’s wrist, and in her left hand was a brown envelope—much better for Njuli, as he was reading her body language plus gathering information about her at the same time.

“Is the envelope in your hand addressed to me?” asked Njuli.

The girl nodded yes and handed him her envelope.

“Thank you.” Njuli acknowledged, opening it.

The note inside was written in cursive and read: Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Annika. I’m tired of being an isolated orphan. Would you please enrol me in your school?