Standing amidst the scattered textbooks, the initial shock gave way to a wave of shared memory.
"Seya Siddaki J.J., from Greenwood High?" Hazon asked, a tentative smile breaking through his surprise.
"Hazon, from Mr. Davids' history class!" she replied, her own formal demeanor softening with recognition. "We were in the same school for three years and barely said a word." š³
They laughed, the tension dissolving into an easy camaraderie born of a shared past, however distant. They gathered the rest of the books, and instead of parting ways, they found a nearby bench. They spoke of teachers they remembered, school events they had both attended but experienced separately, and the strange twist of fate that brought them to the same university.
The conversation flowed effortlessly, shifting from nostalgic memories to their current studies;his passion for criminology, her ambition in fashion design. They were two distinct threads from the same social fabric, now finally intertwining. š®
"We should stay in touch," Hazon suggested as the sun began to dip lower. "It's nice to see a familiar face here."
"I'd like that," Seya agreed. They exchanged phone numbers, a simple action that solidified a new, unexpected friendship. With a final wave, they parted, both feeling a little less like strangers on the vast campus. š