Anon. Wait-
"But that's not my actual name though," she mentioned.
Did she just say Anon?
But how did, how did she-
"And you are?" she questioned me, showing a half-smile.
"And it makes sense that I'm giving my name to a stranger, how?" I remarked at her.
"I'm not a stranger," she said, her tone slightly soft.
"I've known you for around 3 minutes," I smirked, "so technically you are one."
She turned away and hid a smirk.
"What?" I asked.
"I'm not a stranger,"
"Stalker?"
"Neither,"
"Then if you are, speaking, someone I actually know-"
"You don't know me,"
"Yes! Which makes you a stranger,"
"I already told you," she sat down by a bench near the barn (turns out we're in an abandoned barn) door.
"I'm not," she said, turning to me,
"I'm not a stranger, Martin."
