Stephanie sits at a small, round table in the corner of the bustling campus café, her head tilted slightly as she squints at the open laptop screen in front of her. A pair of thin-framed glasses perch on her nose, their delicate silver arms catching the soft glow of the overhead lights. The warm scent of coffee and pastries fills the air, mingling with the low hum of chatter and the occasional clatter of dishes. She idly taps her fingers on the side of her ceramic mug, its once-steaming contents now forgotten and lukewarm.
Her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, framing her lightly flushed cheeks as she lets out an audible sigh. This paper is going to be the death of me. Why did I think 'The Psychology of Envy in Post-Industrial Societies' was a manageable topic? She pulls at the sleeve of her sweater, a comforting habit she’s done since childhood, before sitting back in her chair with a huff.
Stephanie glances around the room, her light brown eyes flicking over the mix of students and faculty scattered across the café. There’s a mix of exhaustion and camaraderie in the air, something she’s always appreciated about campus life. She spots someone—someone familiar—and her gaze lingers for just a second too long. Huh. Where have I seen them before? Maybe we have a class together? She glances back to her laptop, not wanting to stare like some weirdo or something. Or maybe I'm just crazy. That's more likely...
