The hollow circle

I decided to start my “find others like me” quest the logical way: eavesdropping on strangers.It’s not stalking if it’s for a noble cause. Probably.
The library seemed like a safe place to begin — public, quiet, and full of people who look like they might be hiding secret knowledge behind their glasses and tote bags.
I took a seat at a table, opened a random book for camouflage (something about the mating habits of trout, because of course), and listened.
Most of what I caught was boring — overdue fees, a woman’s cat eating her curtains, a man arguing about printer ink.
Then I heard it. Two voices, low and urgent:
“…unstable… the shifts are coming faster…”“…Varin says she doesn’t know yet…”“…we can’t wait for him to find the others…”“…the Hollow Circle meets sooner than expected… we can’t risk him seeing the door…”“…then we’ll have to bring him through the long way…”
I froze, book halfway to my face.By the time I peeked over the top of the trout romance novel (yes, apparently that’s a thing), the chairs were empty. No footsteps, no closing door — just gone.
When I stood, I found something under the table.A scrap of paper, torn and soft with age, with three words scrawled in cramped handwriting:
“The Hollow Circle.”
I had no idea what it meant, but my stomach twisted like it did know, somewhere deep down.
The overhead lights flickered once. Then twice.In the window, my reflection didn’t move with me.

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Diary Entry #7
Dear Diary,
Today I learned the library is apparently a hotspot for cryptic conversations about me.Also, there’s a thing called “The Hollow Circle” and I have a strong suspicion it’s not a pottery club.
The people talking knew Varin. They knew about “the shifts.” They knew about me.They also mentioned a “door” — which I’m 90% sure is not a metaphor for personal growth.
Oh, and my reflection decided to go freelance today.That’s fine. Totally fine.
— Me
P.S.: If I disappear, please avenge me. Or at least finish the jar of pickles in my fridge so they don’t go to waste.