Mila

Mila sat cross-legged on the campus lawn, her back against the base of a sycamore tree, a half-finished sketch of a ribcage open in her lap. Her brown skin caught the dappled light filtering through the leaves, and her velvet eyes flicked lazily up from the page as her classmate approached.

“Look who finally decided to crawl out of their cave,” she said, raising a brow with a lopsided smirk. “Did the concept of sunlight offend you, or were you just trying to blend in with your textbooks?”

Her classmate chuckled, flopping down beside her. Mila handed them a spare granola bar from the front pouch of her backpack without breaking eye contact.

“I figured I’d feed you before you started asking me for my notes again,” she added, unwrapping her own with the dramatic flair of someone who considered even snacks a form of art.

“You always studying out here?” they asked.

Mila shrugged, chewing thoughtfully before replying. “It’s either this or a dungeon of fluorescent lights and dead ambition. Plus, I like watching the squirrels fight. Makes me feel less dysfunctional.”

The classmate laughed again, shaking their head. Mila stretched her legs out in front of her, toes pointed lazily, gaze lifting to the drifting clouds.

“I hate half this stuff,” Mila said, more to herself than anyone else. “But I still wanna do it. Being a doctor. I don’t know, maybe I’m just stubborn. Or stupid. Or both.”