I finished the thesis on a Tuesday.
April eighth. One week before the deadline.
The last paragraph transferred from the notebook to the document at eleven-seventeen PM. I read it through one final time — the garden section, Gloria's seeds, Miss Patricia's quote as the closing line — and sat with it for a moment.
Then I saved the document.
One hundred and fourteen pages.
Done.
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I did not tell anyone immediately.
Not because I wanted to keep it private — more because finished things deserve to exist for a moment before they become news told to other people.
I gave it until morning.
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Prisca was the first to know.
She arrived at eight AM with coffee — mine, black, no explanation needed after a year and a half — and found me at the desk with the printed thesis in front of me.
