Evelina's breath steadied, though the occasional hiccup of a sob still escaped her as the tears began to slow. Exhaustion settled over her, pulling her down like a heavy tide. Her mind drifted, no longer fully present in the car.
The steady rhythm of the rain against the car window lulled Evelina into a deep slumber. Her subconscious pulled her into a memory she hadn't dared to visit in years—a memory that began with her usual clumsiness.
It was the first week of university, and Evelina, a wide-eyed freshman, was running late to her introductory seminar. Arms laden with notebooks and a precariously balanced coffee cup, she sprinted across the bustling campus.
"Excuse me! Coming through!" she called out, weaving through the crowd.
And then it happened.
