Tuesday smelled of wet asphalt. A fine rain hung in the air, the courtyard glistened, and students moved under hoods like colorful shadows. I pulled the zipper of my jacket higher and unconsciously touched the small pendant under my sweater. The metal felt cold, reassuring. A secret proof that the weekend had really happened.
"Coffee?" Fiona held a paper cup under my nose as if it were a life preserver.
"Thanks." I took a sip and grimaced. "Bitter."
"Just like math at eight o'clock," said Jonas, who trudged behind us, pretending he had to carry the sky on his shoulders. "But I'm here. And that's my biggest sacrifice of the day."
Mira briefly raised her hand in greeting. Her hair had grown curly from the damp wind, and the camera hung, as always, securely on a strap over her shoulder. "You look tired, Lina," she said quietly, without making it sound reproachful.
"I am." I tried to smile. "Just... too little sleep."
