The photography crit room was loud, filled with the harsh overhead glare of fluorescent lights and the nervous chatter of twenty students tacking black-and-white prints to the long cork boards lining the walls.
Ava stood in front of her designated section, carefully smoothing down the corners of her six-part series.
For weeks, her work had been hesitant—safe landscapes, technical studies of architecture, perfectly exposed but emotionally flat. But over the weekend, something had fundamentally shifted. She had swapped out her entire portfolio for shots taken over the last two days: rain falling through campus street lamps, the warm glow of coffee steaming against a fogged window, reflections of neon lights in wet pavement, and a quiet, candid shot of Liam sitting on her window seat, half
