The problem with promising to bring someone a bookmark—
was that eventually—
you had to remember.
Friday morning began with crisp air and bright sunshine pouring across the courtyard.
Students streamed through the front gates carrying backpacks, notebooks, and the unmistakable excitement that came with the end of the school week.
Lily reached into her bag before first period and smiled.
Nestled safely inside was a simple laminated bookmark decorated with pressed blue flowers and a tiny ribbon at the top.
Just as she had promised.
When she spotted Noah by the lockers, she held it out.
"For your book.”
He accepted it carefully.
“You remembered.”
“Of course.”
He looked at the delicate design for a moment.
“It’s nicer than my folded receipt.”
“That was a very low standard.”
He
