On a gray Monday morning the following week, Ash found herself in unfamiliar territory.
Not outside.
Inside.
The registrar's office building of SHU.
She stood just beyond the sliding glass entrance, near one of the concrete pillars by the wall. Students moved in and out around her in loose clusters—backpacks slung over shoulders, coffee cups in hand, conversations overlapping in low chatter.
Ash didn't belong in this setting.
Black leather pants hugged her legs. Heavy boots planted firm against polished tile. A faded rock band hoodie hung over her frame, hood pulled up low enough to shadow her eyes.
Her posture was lowered slightly. Shoulders forward. Chin tucked.
In her hands were several sheets of paper—forms, identification copies, The edges were crumpled slightly where her fingers gripped them too tight.
She looked pissed.
Every few seconds, she'd glance up at the building directory mounted near the entrance.
