I remind myself of the bagel.
Plain. Low drama.
My brain tries to argue.
I ignore it.
Inside the dining hall, it’s not as loud as it was earlier in the week. Less bodies. Less clatter. Still too many options, but I keep my eyes forward and lock onto one plan.
A bagel. My safe food.
I grab a tray. I take one bagel. I take a banana because it feels like a small peace offering to my body. I don’t analyze whether that’s enough or too much or safe. I just do it.
I sit near the window, back to a wall, exit visible.
Control helps.
I take the first bite, and my chest tightens like my brain is ready to revolt again.
Then I chew anyway.
I keep chewing.
The revolution slows. It quiets. Not fully. But enough. Relief hits me—small but real—and it makes my throat tighten because I hate how big small victories feel.
My phone buzzes, but it’s not the name I’m expecting. In fact, it’s an unknown number.
Unknown Number: morning harlow!!! u alive???
I blink, beyond confused, then type back.
Harlow: Who is this?
Unknown Number: the greatest hockey player ever to grace the ice at pcu
Weston.
Harlow: How did you get my number?
Weston: well you see
Weston: i may have stolen it from your brother’s phone
Weston: he caught me but I promised to only use it in emergencies and there’s no take backs once I have it so
I can’t help but laugh at that.
Harlow: This doesn’t exactly scream “emergency” to me.
Weston: it is! i was checking for signs of life!
Weston: are you coming to skate again or are you abandoning me again like last night?
I snort quietly, then take another bite of the bagel like it will anchor me to reality.
Harlow: I’ll think about it.
Weston: THATS A YES! SECOND DATE IS A GO
