One afternoon, Rosie’s note conveyed a touch of frustration. She expressed how difficult it was becoming to fully express her thoughts through limited written words. She lamented the struggle of condensing her emotions and wished they could have a more immediate means of communication. She was also complaining about running out of paper again.

Jennie read Rosie’s words, a sympathetic nod forming as she understood the sentiment. Writing everything down on notepads could indeed be a challenge.

Taking a moment to ponder, Jennie’s eyes lit up with a sudden realization. She picked up her notepad and scribbled a question for Rosie: “You’re running out of paper again? Didn’t I just give you a notepad?”

Jennie wondered, as she gave Rosie the same notepad she’s currently using, but hers still got a few pages left.

Rosie’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she read Jennie’s question. She quickly wrote her response, her pen moving with a hint of bewilderment.

“I did run out! I swear, it’s like the paper just vanishes. Maybe I have a paper-eating ghost in my room or something. I have no idea where it all goes.”

Jennie chuckled softly at Rosie’s imaginative explanation. She considered the mystery for a moment before shrugging it off, thinking that perhaps Rosie used the paper for her artistic endeavors, filling the pages with sketches and doodles.

Rosie softly knocked on the glass barrier and held up a new note.

“Can I just have your phone number? It’s easier than writing these novels on notepads.”

Jennie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as she read Rosie’s request. The corners of turned up into a playful smile, and she leaned closer to the glass, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Are you hitting on me now, Rosie?” she playfully responded, her tone filled with mock incredulity.

Rosie burst into laughter; her amusement contagious. She quickly wrote her response, her pen dancing across the page.

“Of course, Jennie! You caught me. I’m head over heels for your notepad-sharing abilities. But seriously, it’s just for convenience. Don’t flatter yourself too much.”

Jennie chuckled, thoroughly enjoying their playful banter. With a final note of jest, she responded, “Sure, Rosie. You can have my number. Besides, I’ll feel terrible if I ignore requests from my fans like this.” With her number written at the bottom part of the paper.

A mix of surprise and mock disbelief washed over Rosie’s face, her eyebrows shooting up in playful exasperation. Without needing to write a single word, Rosie conveyed her response through a playful roll of her eyes, accompanied by a mischievous