Michaela
Friday comes around faster than I expect it to, and to make matters worse, one of my seminar leaders refused to let us go, even though he knew we needed to get to other appointments.
I hurry along the corridor towards the lab, hoping Owen is still there and hasn"t had to rush off to a lecture of his own. I should have checked what his timetable was like. I sent him a message, but he doesn"t often check his phone when he"s busy creating potions.
I pull out my own to see if he"s responded. The lack of message is both reassuring and not.
The door clatters in its hinges as I burst through it breathing a little heavily.
"I"m sorry," I say through my ragged pants.
Owen looks up from his potion and smiles. "You"re just in time. I"m about to add the last ingredient."
Relief floods
