Monday morning smelled of freshly opened notebooks and coffee from the teachers' room.
The buzzing of voices in the hallway, the squeaking of chalkboard erasers, the dull sound of footsteps on linoleum – everything was as it had always been. And yet something felt different.
I had expected everything to be immediately difficult again.
That the weekend would fade like a dream dissolving in the light. That the weight would return, the one that usually greeted me every morning when I saw the school door.
But to my own surprise, it wasn't like that.
I felt lighter. Not free, not invulnerable. But lighter.
Perhaps because I knew that somewhere out there, someone knew something about me that not everyone was allowed to see.
Perhaps because the laughter from the campfire still echoed in my ear.
