The afternoon dragged on like thick syrup. Minutes stretched into hours, hours into a dull roar. I sat in the classroom, scribbling meaningless lines in my notebook, trying to ignore the trembling in my hands. The note lay heavy in my bag—an unassuming piece of paper that spoke louder than any voice.
I was here while he was gone.
I read the words in my head over and over until they sounded like a curse.
Fiona asked once: "Everything okay?"
I nodded too quickly, too eagerly, so she wouldn't ask further. Jonas made jokes, Mira photographed rain streaks on the window. I played along, laughed at the right moments, talked without really being present. My body was in the classroom, but my heart beat to a different rhythm—too restless, too loud, like drumming beneath the skin.
