I think I might be losing my mind.

I'm sitting here, recalling someone. My friend. The one no one else remembers. I loved being around her, more than anything.

She was tall—taller than anyone I knew. Her body was sleek and covered in purple scales that shimmered in the light. Her long, messy hair cascaded down her back, wild and untamed, and it had a life of its own. I always wanted to run my fingers through it.

She had claws. Sharp, thick claws that clicked when she walked. They looked dangerous, but she'd never hurt me. I'd always watch in fascination as she'd curl them around objects, her talons never quite touching anything with full force.

Her face… God, her face. She had the most striking eyes I've ever seen—huge, golden yellow, with sclera that looked almost like an eclipse, dark but radiant in their intensity. They always made me feel like she could see into my soul, but that comforted me. But there was something else about her face. Freckles—golden specks of light sprinkled across her cheeks, just like mine... She also had these sharp, yellow fangs that peeked from the corners of her lips, a reminder of what she was. But it never bothered me. Her smile was warm, inviting. There was nothing scary about her, not really, at least to me.

But here's the thing: no one else remembers her. Not a single person.

I've tried asking, tried to bring her up in conversation with my family, my classmates. I asked my mom once. "Do you remember that tall, purple girl at school?" She just stared at me like I was speaking a different language. "What are you talking about? There was absolutely never anyone like that."

Whenever I would ask my classmates, they'd all just blink at me, confused. "I think you've got your wires crossed… are you ok, Noelle? I think we'd know if someone who ate chalk went to our school."

I've started to even doubt *myself*. What if I really was just imagining her all along? What if she was a figment of my imagination, and I just made her up because I was lonely or something? But… it feels so real. She felt so real.

Everyone I've told about her brushes me off, they all say it was just a dream. But I know what I felt. I know what I saw.

I can't be the only one who remembers her, can I?

There's a part of me that still hopes that one day, somehow, I'll see her again. But for now, I'm only left with the memories of a friend who, maybe, was never really there at all.

Susie, if that's even your name, I miss you.