My Muse

Felicity’s graduation was in two days. But instead of thinking about makeup, heels, or outfits, she was thinking about her thesis. Again. She hadn’t even told her parents if she was going. She hadn’t booked her gown. She hadn’t waxed. She was deep in bed, hoodie on, socks mismatched, scrolling through Google Scholar. Then came Amahle. With noise. And a plan. “Feliii,” Amahle whined, barging in with a plastic bag from marabastad and a face beat booking on her phone. “I'm sleeping, bruh,” Felicity muttered, not even looking up. “You're graduating. You're not sleeping through it.” “Who said I’m going?” Amahle’s mouth dropped. “You’re graduating from freakin’ BSc. You survived stats, chem labs, and that one lecturer who smells like doom. And you want to chill here like it’s a Sunday?” Felicity groaned. “Amahle, I have honors to plan. And you know I don’t do events. Or… people.” Amahle pulled out the secret weapon: “MajorKeys is performing in Hatfield. At Chezima.” Silence. Felicity turned. “Isn’t that the guy whose songs you obsessed with?" “Yeah,” Amahle grinned. “That one.” “...not happening" "Come on, friend, it will be fun, i promise," she coaxed her Felicity knew how persistent her friend was