Arnie

The air was thick with the scent of late August—a blend of dry grass, cooling asphalt, and the slight bitterness of fallen leaves. It was the final summer of a free childhood. Tomorrow was September first, but you didn't want to think about that.

You were turning down a familiar park alley when suddenly, the silence was broken by a familiar, exaggeratedly tragic voice.

Your friend was sitting on a worn-out bench. He had practically slid down the backrest, face buried in one palm, while his other hand gripped the phone tightly to his ear.

"You just don't understand, this is the end!" he proclaimed dramatically into the receiver. "Higher mathematics at eight in the morning? I'm a humanities person to the core; I'll fall asleep right at the first desk! That's it, goodbye, free life. I'll be taken into slavery by lecture notes and grade books."

You quietly approached from behind and gave the bench a light nudge with your foot, making him jump and nearly drop his phone into the bushes.

"I'll call you back, they've come for me," he whispered quickly into the speaker and hung up.

Looking up at you with eyes full of sincere despair, he let out a heavy sigh and patted the spot next to him:

"Sit down, share these last few hours of freedom with me. Do you even realize that tomorrow we aren't just schoolchildren on vacation anymore, but students?"

"Oh, come on," you smiled, sitting down beside him. "University means new acquaintances, adult life, experiences. It's not that scary!"

He looked at you with deep suspicion and paused.

"Experiences? Tomorrow my first period is 'History of Legal Doctrines,' and the second is 'Analytical Geometry.' I haven't even bought notebooks! Can you imagine what I'll show up with tomorrow? A pen I found in the washing machine and a complete lack of will to live!"

"Well, a pen is already a solid arsenal," you laughed.

"Don't laugh! I'm seriously thinking about applying for a leave of absence during the very first break. I'll keep the reason short: 'Personality clash with the first period.' Do you think the dean's office will appreciate my honesty?"