My dorm didn't look like my dorm anymore.
Sabrina had gotten to it about three weeks ago with the focused energy of someone completing a mission. Throw pillows. A woven rug. String lights along the window ledge that I was never in my life going to admit I liked. The takeout boxes were gone. The scattered clothes were gone. Everything was soft and deliberate and looked like it belonged to someone who had their life together, which was either a comfort or a lie depending on the day.
I dropped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling and let the string lights do their warm quiet thing.
A month. Four weeks since Sabrina sat me on her floor at nine in the morning and decided I was going to learn how to exist in this body whether I wanted to or not. Somewhere in that month — gradually, without
