Ava didn’t plan on taking dance.
She stood outside the administrative office longer than she needed to, her course form folded once in her hand, then unfolded again. The corridor wasn’t crowded, but people still passed—some in a rush, some not. No one paid attention to her.
Inside, her course advisor barely looked up.
“You’re short one elective.”
“I already picked drama,” Ava said.
“It’s full.”
She paused. “Music, then.”
“Also full.”
That was it. No apology, no suggestion. Just a cursor blinking on the screen in front of him like the conversation was already over.
He clicked a few keys.
“There’s space in dance.”
Ava let out a quiet breath through her nose, the kind that didn’t quite qualify as a reaction.
“Okay,” she said after a second.
He nodded once, already moving on.
___
