Noel stepped out into the morning sun again, his stamped foam form folded neatly and tucked under his arm.
The campus had come alive since he entered Block C — more students scattered the walkways now, some rushing, others strolling like time didn't exist.
He headed toward their usual meeting spot near the wide stone bench under the jacaranda tree — where the three always waited when one of them had a different department.
His eyes caught movement up ahead. A familiar figure waving.
Emily.
She was the first to spot him, one hand raised, the other gripping her folder tight.
Luca and George trailed beside her, mid-conversation, laughing about something Noel couldn't quite hear yet.
"There he is!" George called, lifting his hand dramatically like Noel had just returned from war.
Noel smirked as they reached him. "You make it sound like I was gone for an hour."
"Well," Luca said, eyes twinkling, "some of us faced life-threatening stapler placement trauma."
