Two weeks of non-stop studying, classes, running, and partying have left me exhausted. I've just come back from my run when I see Becca, my best friend, perched on the sofa, oddly without her usual distractions — no book or TV in sight. The anomaly tugs at me, but I disregard it. Privacy and peace are rights we both hold dear.
Just as I'm about to retreat to the sanctuary of my bedroom, Becca leaps from the couch, intercepting my path. It's clear she's at the end of her rope, her patience threadbare. The tension she's been bottling up these past weeks finally erupts.
"Ava, please," Becca pleads, gripping my wrist and tugging me towards the couch. "I'm worried about you. You've been out of sorts. If you'd let me, maybe I could help. Just sit down, let's talk. That's all I'm asking of you,
