ning in Saint Ag

uffled, whispered, and laughed, a flood of voices rising and falling like waves. Some carried lunchboxes; others clutched stacks o

es-the spaces between groups of friends, the empty benches by the courtyard, the back corner of the library. It w

s. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, a few strands framing her thoughtful face. Her gaze was soft but attentive, alw

ectures or the assignments, but because it was a sanctuary of sorts. Words had always mattered to her more than people.

room without being in the center of it. Her notebook lay open on her desk, a pen ready, though she hadn't yet decided whether

ss the room, s

But for some reason, her gaze paused on him-a boy sitting two rows behind her, hunched over a notebook. His posture was slightly stiff, as i

linked.

miliar, though she knew she had never seen him closely before. There was a quiet intensity in the way he scribbled in his notebook, the way

er feel alive, understood, and less invisible. There was no way she could know, of course. The connection was digital, faceless, and unte

of herself. Stop staring, she whispered si

that made students quiet immediately. "Today, we'll continue discussing character perspectives," she sa

page as she reflected on last night's reading-the anonymous story that had shifted something inside her. She

as scribbling rapidly, not notes from the teacher but his own reflections. Every line he wrote was deliberate, every word carefull

odd. One of his sentences was underlined twice: "Some people pass throu

ast night almost word for word, though she knew the odds were ast

usual sense. Not the flutter of a crush or the gossip of classma

to the words, and to the strange connection she imagined. She felt a twinge of longing-not for him, not for attenti

llected her books carefully, moving with the flow of students but avoiding collisions. She not

er she hadn't felt before. She tried to convince herself it wa

was familiar, though she didn't know why. Something about his silen

s she had written online. She realized-without understanding how-that maybe, just maybe,

d always pushed away: the possibility that connection could exist not ju

e invisible lines between two quiet souls were beginning to

er heart, and walked home beneath the late morning sun, her mind brimming with