Nineteen
The microwave spun my dinner in circles, the low hum drowning out some of the chatter from the other interns in the kitchen. Despite most of them being familiar faces, I didn’t feel tempted to join any of the conversations. I also didn’t feel out of place or like I shouldn’t be there. Not like how the apprentices at the clinic made me feel.
Balancing the tray of lasagna on my plate, I sat down at the kitchen island. I could eat in my room but I was enjoying the atmosphere. Sometimes it was nice to be around people without having to engage. Peter smiled as he deposited another of his mugs in the sink and I couldn’t help but be amused. Across the room, Aaron was doing his best to charm a girl from another floor with one of his inflated stories. Some things never changed.
“Hello,”
