The lecture hall is still humming with scattered conversations and the frantic flipping of notebooks, even though the exam is over.
I grip my pen tighter than necessary as I walk toward the exit, my legs stiff from sitting too long, my brain buzzing from too many essay questions and not enough sleep. The caffeine's worn off, and so has my adrenaline.
Outside, the sun's doing that late spring thing—warm, bright, almost smug. Like the universe thinks it deserves credit for how hard we're trying to hold it all together.
Karla jogs up beside me, waving her Scantron like a tiny white flag. "Well, that was a crime against students."
Jennifer groans behind us. "I blacked out on question four and just started writing about attachment theory like it owed me money."
I laugh, the sound surprising me. I didn't expect to feel light today, not even for a moment.
