One afternoon, as we were packing up to leave, Andrea suddenly rested her chin on her desk and let out a dramatic sigh.
"What's with you?" I asked.
"I feel like I'm missing something."
I raised an eyebrow. "What, like homework?"
"No, no. Something… important." She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, eyes half-lidded. "Do you ever feel like that?"
I thought for a moment. Then, with complete honesty, I answered, "No."
Andrea groaned. "You're so boring."
I shrugged. "You're overthinking it."
"Maybe." She sat up and grabbed her bag. "But if I ever figure out what it is, I'll tell you."
That was Andrea—constantly searching for something she couldn't name. And I, as always, was just there beside her, watching, listening, waiting.
Just her seatmate. Just her best friend.
For now.