Ahead of most waking moments, a note came through. When light first reached rooftop edges, there it was.
Dean Asks to Meet With Student.
Ms. Miller,
Be in my office exactly at two. One second past, one problem more.
Dean Morrison
Short. Blunt. And terrifying.
When Sunday turned dark, cameras already held what everyone would see - Lucas facing Jayce, locked sharp in frame after frame. Truth has a way of slipping out given time. Angles multiplied fast, each one feeding loops that ran everywhere at once. One response tugged another along behind it. Where jokes once filled air, pictures now hang still. Each shot stays put on glass like a leaf frozen in rain.
There I stayed, rooted as if planted. Quiet kept me grounded even as movement swirled nearby. Though tugged by unseen forces, my spot never changed.
