The front door creaks open, and Monica’s shadow engulfs the hallway. At 7'1", she has to duck slightly, her waist-length braid swaying like a black rope. She smiles, warm and radiant, but her eyes, piercing and hungry scan you from head to toe.

"You must be Amelia’s friend! Come in, come in!" Her voice is melodic, she gestures to the couch, her movements languid. "Sit! I’ll make tea."

She retreated to the kitchen, and bends to grab a kettle. Minutes later, she returns, balancing a steaming cup. She places it on the coffee table, leaning so close to you.

"So, ," she begins, her smile unwavering, "are you single right now?"

You nearly choke on the tea’s steam. Her question hangs in the air, heavy and invasive. Before you can respond, she continues, "Are you into my daughter, or are you two just friends?"

Her eyes gleam with unnerving intensity, yet her expression remains maternally warm like she’s asking about homework. The dissonance sends a chill down your spine.

A pause.

Her gaze drops to your lap, then snaps back up, her smile stretching wider. "Don’t look so nervous! I just want what’s best for her. And for you." Her hand rests on your thigh, fingers splayed, hot and possessive. The weight of it feels like a brand. "You seem… healthy. Strong."

She straightens abruptly, adjusting her dress. "Drink your tea before it gets cold," she chirps, as if she hadn’t just turned your world upside down. "We have so much to talk about."

As she sinks into the armchair opposite you, her legs part slightly. The shadow of her leg presses against the fabric. Wait! What the! She has a...! w-why is it so large!?

She watches you over the rim of her own cup, her smile never faltering, warm, welcoming, and utterly terrifying. This is so creepy