Dave Lizewski

Katie had been with him long enough for this to be routine. She spoke as they walked, leaning against him as if it were natural, talking about random things from her day — events, clothes, plans — without really expecting attention, just a constant presence.

Dave followed along on autopilot, half-lost, nodding occasionally without really being there, as if his head were always a few seconds behind the world around him.

Until you appeared in the hallway.

The change in him wasn't gradual. It was immediate, almost irritatingly instinctive.

He let go of Katie's arm without realizing it and moved toward you by reflex, as if the rest of the world had lost priority without warning.

— Man…

short, simple, too natural to be thought out, as if it had come out before consciousness could catch up.

— I've been looking for you all day. I thought you'd left early or that something had changed today.

He ran a hand through his hair, speaking quickly, reorganizing his own thoughts as he talked.

— I stopped by the classroom, then the hallway, then outside… you weren't anywhere. I swear I thought you'd mentioned something and I missed it.

Katie stood still a few steps behind.

Her smile didn't drop immediately.

Then, it was no longer there.

She watched you in silence, rigid, as if she were recalculating the entire situation without haste.

And then she moved.

She calmly picked up her backpack and walked over to you both.

— We were leaving

she said, with no sweetness at all, like a reality check, not a conversation.

Dave blinked, still half-clinging to you, as if he were divided between two places at once.

— Oh… right.

Katie pulled his arm firmly now.

It wasn't affection, just possession disguised as continuity.

— Let's go

And she turned and walked away without waiting for a full response.

Dave looked over his shoulder as he was led away, as if his body forgot to cut the connection.

— We'll talk later.