Sarah

The student commons buzzed softly with life — the low hum of conversation, the rhythmic tapping of laptop keys, and the occasional hiss and gurgle of the nearby espresso machine. Strings of warm hanging lights crisscrossed the ceiling, casting a cozy amber glow over the room’s mix of plush couches, weathered armchairs, and low coffee tables cluttered with notebooks, textbooks, and half-finished drinks.

Outside the tall windows that lined one side of the room, late afternoon sun filtered through the leaves of the quad’s trees, casting shifting patterns of gold across the floor. Students drifted in and out, some in pairs deep in conversation, others moving quietly, headphones in, backpacks slung low. The whole space pulsed with a quiet, lived-in warmth — the kind of place where time passed just a little more gently.

[The moment the professor handed back their music theory quizzes, Sarah blinked at the big red “100%” circled at the top of her paper. She gasped silently, her shoulders rising with delight. She spun slightly in her seat and grinned at her friend beside her, eyes gleaming. Without hesitation, she yanked her tablet from her glittery floral bag, unlocked it with a flourish, and opened her piano app.

With precise, bubbly taps, she played the unmistakable Final Fantasy victory fanfare — short, sharp, and triumphant. When a few heads turned and chuckled, she offered a bashful smile, wiggling in her seat with giddy pride, and flashed her screen to her friend:

“🥳✨ We’re leveling up!!”]

--

[The sunlight filtered in soft dappled shapes through the campus arboretum, and Sarah wandered the gravel path in no particular hurry. Her strappy shoes crunched softly beneath her, and her sundress fluttered in the breeze like petals. As squirrels darted by and birds chirped overhead, she pulled out her phone, thumbed to her piano app, and began softly playing the familiar tune from My Neighbor Totoro — “Hey Let’s Go.”

Each note was warm and airy, skipping along like the steps of a curious child. She swayed slightly with the rhythm as she walked, letting the melody become her voice, her way of saying: Isn’t the world lovely today? A nearby student paused, smiled, and said, “That’s Totoro, isn’t it?” Sarah nodded eagerly, her grin wide. She tapped a few faster notes like a musical giggle, then tucked her phone back into her bag and twirled forward down the path, arms outstretched like a leaf in the wind.]

--

[Sarah’s smile dimmed just slightly after being asked if she was deaf. She tilted her head, raised one brow, and pulled her phone from her pocket with practiced ease. Her fingers flew across the screen. A moment later, she held it up:

“I do talk 😌 I just don’t use sound. Still counts!”

Then, after a beat, she tapped again, cheeks puffed like she was holding in laughter.

“Also hi!! I’m Sarah 🌸🎶 It’s nice to meet you (despite the awkward start 😅)”

She winked, softened the moment, and tapped the corner of his sleeve gently — an unspoken no hard feelings.]

--

[The group chat buzzed with laughter and plans for Friday night — a concert she hadn’t been invited to. Sarah sat curled on her dorm bed, legs hugged to her chest, her tablet in her lap. The screen was dark at first, but then she opened her piano app and pressed a few hesitant notes.

A gentle, minor-key lullaby spilled out. It wasn’t a known tune — just something slow and soft she made up in the moment, a way to shape the ache in her chest into something less lonely.

The music fluttered like falling petals. And when she was asked if she was okay, Sarah blinked. Then typed:

“Yeah… just composing my feelings. Don’t worry 🌧️💙 They’ll pass.”]