Thanksgiving break arrived with the awkward exodus of students leaving campus. Dorms emptying. Parking lots full of parents picking up kids. The familiar chaos of everyone going home.
Adrian returned to Connecticut. His mother picked him up, hugged him tight in the parking lot, commented on how he looked healthier than last time she'd seen him.
Dante went to his family two hours in the opposite direction.
They hadn't been apart for more than a day since reconnecting. Daily coffee. Weekly basketball. Texts throughout the day. Constant contact.
The separation felt wrong.
The first night home, Adrian sat at the kitchen table picking at leftovers from the welcome-home dinner his mother had insisted on making. She watched him from across the table with that expression he recognized—the mom look that saw through everything.
"You're anxious," she observed.
"I'm fine."
"Adrian."
