Lunchtime had always been one of those little pauses in the day where I didn't have to think too hard. Classes behind us for the morning, nothing to do but sit, eat, and breathe before the next round started. But today, it wasn't food on my mind.
It was her call last night.
Val sat across from me, a tray balanced in front of her. Some pasta the cafeteria tried to pass off as edible, a carton of juice, and a cookie she'd swiped from somewhere that definitely wasn't the serving line. She had this way of making anything look like a proper meal, mostly because of the way she leaned in, fork twirling like she was eating at a restaurant instead of under buzzing fluorescent lights.
Meanwhile, my tray sat untouched.
