ARIA
The classroom air was thick with big words and boredom. Finance 301. Professor Martinez's voice was a distant, droning hum, a background noise to the only thing that mattered.
Sarah sat beside me, her pen moving in swift, sure strokes. Her focus was a force field. Her brow was furrowed just so. A strand of hair fell across her cheek, and she tucked it behind her ear with a precise, familiar motion. My heart did not swell. It cracked open, a fissure leaking a desperate, aching longing. I missed her with a physical sickness, even as she occupied the space eighteen inches away.
She felt my stare. She turned, her lips parting to form a question.
I moved before thought. I launched myself at her, my arms wrapping around her shoulders in a grip that was too tight, too desperate. The chair scraped. Students gasped.
"Miss Thorne!" The professor's voice sliced through the room. "What is the meaning of this?"
