The school library was unusually crowded for a Wednesday afternoon. Sophie slipped through the rows of shelves, searching for an empty table. Her mind was still buzzing from the day's events—a mix of compliments, curious glances, and the occasional, awkward "Can I sit with you?" during lunch.
She wasn't used to this much attention, and though it was flattering, it was also exhausting.
As she rounded a corner, she saw Jason sitting alone, his head bent over a book. She hesitated, debating whether to approach him. They hadn't talked much since open mic night, but something about his quiet presence drew her in.
"Hey," Sophie said, finally walking over.
Jason looked up, his face lighting up with a smile. "Hey, Sophie. Fancy seeing you here."
"Do you mind if I join you?"
"Not at all," he replied, closing his book.
Sophie sat down, setting her notebook on the table. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the comfortable silence punctuated only by the rustling of pages and the faint hum of conversation around them.
"Your poem was amazing," Jason said suddenly.
Sophie looked up, surprised. "You think so?"
He nodded. "It felt real. Like you weren't just writing words—you were sharing a part of yourself."
"That's… probably the nicest thing anyone's ever said about my writing," Sophie admitted, her cheeks warming.
Jason chuckled. "Well, it's true. And I'm not the only one who thinks so."
Sophie smiled, but a thought lingered in her mind. "Do you ever feel like… people's expectations make it harder to just be yourself?"
Jason tilted his head, considering her question. "All the time. Especially in this school, where everyone's trying to fit into some mold."
Sophie nodded. "Exactly. It's like, now that people know I write, they're watching me, waiting to see what I'll do next. It's… a lot."
Jason leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face. "I think the key is remembering why you started. Write for the same reasons you always have. Forget the noise."
Sophie stared at him, struck by the simplicity and truth of his words. "How do you always know exactly what to say?"
Jason grinned. "It's a gift."
They both laughed, the tension in Sophie's chest easing.
---
Later that evening, Sophie found herself replaying their conversation. Jason's words echoed in her mind, grounding her in a way she hadn't felt in days.
She opened her notebook, her pen poised over the blank page. This time, the words came effortlessly, pouring out of her like a long-held breath.