God.
I would give anything to go back to that kind of naïve.
I let my head drop back against the worn seat, my voice low. "Remember that week I failed the stats midterm and convinced myself I was going to die a failure?"
Sarah snorted. "You wrote a will in your notebook. Left me your electric kettle and your Spotify playlist."
"You're welcome."
She laughed. "You were so dramatic."
"Says the girl who fake cried during finals so the prof would let her retake it."
"I wasn't fake crying," she said with mock offense. "I was simply using my tears strategically."
I chuckled... softly, quietly.
It almost felt good.
Almost.
We stayed like that for a bit. Warm in memory. Cozy in the past.
And then Sarah said something that made a breath freeze halfway in my lungs.
