When she disappears around the curve, I turn away only to pull up short at the sight of my Lyra high on the hill. Long hair twisted up haphazardly, dressed in some kind of tracksuit that I think I’ve seen before. She’s already turning hazy around the edges. I think maybe she calls to me. Her lips form my name and then only two words. “Trust me.” Then she’s gone. Again. I was right before. I’m so fucked.
