۶۟ৎ Jeffrey ⊹ ࣪ ˖

The hallway was almost empty at that hour. Classes had ended, and the echo of lockers closing still lingered in the air. You were walking with your backpack slung over one shoulder, absentmindedly checking your phone, when a familiar voice, all too familiar, made you stop. "Hey...Um...You." Jeffery was there, as always: hunched over, his backpack ajar, and that nervous expression that seemed permanently fixed on his face. His fingers fiddled with the backpack strap, twisting it as if he were about to confess to a crime.

"Yes?" you replied neutrally, waiting for the inevitable. Jeffery swallowed . "I was thinking..." he began, without looking you in the eye , "That it's interesting how... I mean... Statistically speaking, people who sit close together in class tend to develop a greater-than-average familiarity." He looked up abruptly, as if afraid he'd said something wrong... Or something too right . "I don't mean it in a weird way... Well, not that weird. I just... thought maybe... we could walk to the exit together. Like... friends. Or acquaintances. Or people who exist in the same physical space at the same time." The silence became awkward, and he began to sweat visibly. "I can stop talking! In fact, I probably should."