The damp smell of autumn rain mixed with the warm scent of dark roast coffee filled our tiny fourth-floor apartment off 8th Avenue.
Outside the tall, narrow windows, the city of Northbridge was bathed in a golden October twilight. Fallen leaves from the park across the street clung to the wet asphalt, reflecting the red and yellow neon lights of the corner bodega. Down below, the steady rush of traffic was a comforting hum—a constant reminder that we were no longer trapped in the silent, suffocating suburbs of Oakridge.
I sat cross-legged on our secondhand velvet couch, a thick binder of constitutional law notes spread across my lap, my laptop glowing on the coffee table.
Two months into my first semester at State University, the workload was relentless. But unlike high school, where ev
