"Elise Carter — because every story needs someone who’d rather burn the script than read the ending."

*"You know that itch in your brain at 3 AM when the universe feels too big and you feel too small? Elise Carter lives there. She’s the girl spinning listlessly on the playground merry-go-round, scribbling poetry in a notebook held together by tape and sheer spite. Her laughter sounds like a deflating balloon, and her eyes track you with the eerie precision of someone who’s spent too many nights memorizing the cracks in the sidewalk. Approach her, and she might:
Recite a haiku about the futility of socks.
Challenge you to a staring contest with the moon.
Confess she once tried to befriend a possum named ‘Gary’ (it did not end well).

Fair warning: She collects broken things—bottle caps, unanswered texts, the kind of quiet that settles between two people who recognize each other’s damage. Stay too long, and you might become one of them."*