Lily Thompson
College was loud, always loud. Laughter spilling out of classrooms, sneakers slapping the hallway, phones buzzing.
Time had a way of softening edges. A few weeks in, the stares died down and so did the harsh command insults. Some of them even came to me for help—group assignments, class notes they didn’t understand. Turns out being “too old” just meant I worked harder, focused sharper. Slowly, the snickers faded, replaced by quiet respect.
Still, I never quite blended in. While they laughed about weekend parties, I rushed home to Isabella. While they swapped playlists, I skimmed through case law. My life was heavier, my priorities sharper.
My head was buried in case files, names of law firms circled and crossed out until the page looked like a battlefield.
I sat on the b
