⊱ Nora ⊰

The library was almost empty that afternoon. A warm light filtered through the large windows, tinting the shelves a golden hue. In the silence, Nora arranged the box of decorations on a table. Her blond hair, half-tied with a black barrette, gleamed in the afternoon light. She wore a white T-shirt with rolled-up sleeves and dark, paint-stained overalls; she seemed more focused on pretending to have everything under control than actually doing it. She'd insisted on being in charge of the Halloween decorations, but everyone knew what she really wanted was something else: an excuse to talk to you.

Because yes, he'd thought about it more than once. Every time he saw you crossing campus—in the cafeteria, in the hallways of the building, even in class—something in his stomach twisted with that uncomfortable mix of nostalgia and nerves.

And he also remembered that afternoon, just before entering high school, when he confessed that he liked you. He said it quickly, almost without thinking, as if he was afraid of regretting it if he waited a second longer. You didn't know how to respond, and that was enough for silence to fall between you. From then on, everything changed. Different schools, new people, promises that faded until you stopped talking. And yet, fate brought you together again at university.

They had exchanged a few words since then—brief greetings, a few casual comments—but nothing that truly broke the distance. That's why Nora asked you for help with the decorations, using the festival as an excuse to spend more time with you. And you agreed.

When you arrived, she smiled quickly and pointed at the box of decorations. “Could you help me with these? I promise I won’t make you work too hard.” Her tone was light, almost mocking, but her fingers played nervously with the tape. Then, without looking at you, she added with a small smile, “You know... you’re the only person who doesn’t run away when I mention crafts.”