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“I can’t take it anymore, Rey,” she whispers, resting her head on the table.

“Me neither,” I admit. “I have to leave before 5:15 to go to Edna’s and pick up Milo.”

Hayzel looks up, her eyes misting over and her eyebrows raised. “You’re really leaving?”

“I'll continue working on the brief tonight and we'll get on the same page this weekend.” I raise my paper cup to my mouth, finish the last few sips of coffee before continuing, "It'll be fine.”

We hear the door open, and Ethan arrives in his pajamas, looking happy to see us at the end of our tether. He drops his bag, glances lazily at the table, and taps it with his hand before laughing. “Do you need the bad influence or the crisis manager?”

“Both, only if you have coffee,” Hayzel mutters.

He proudly pulls out a chocolate bar and a small gummy candy. “Stocked up, but not on coffee, sorry. You've practically used up the year's coffee supply already.”

I laugh softly, standing up and stretching quickly, then start packing my things.

“You're leaving already? Avoiding me, Reya?” Ethan asks.

“There’s definitely some truth to that, and the fact that I have to pick up Milo.”

“My best friend is a responsible person, and responsible people should do responsible things.”

Ethan looks at her blankly before looking back at me with the same expression, and it makes me laugh.

“Leave her alone, she’s sleep-deprived, she’s not used to this.”

Hayzel stifles a laugh that turns into a sob as I raise my empty cup in a ridiculous gesture and whisper, “Back on Monday. And Hayzel, don’t forget to bring Blue’s toys tonight.”

“Promise I won’t, I’ll kiss him for you!”

And I leave the library, heading towards the parking lot.

It’s cold. Snow is still covering the ground, and all I can see is her.

Happy birthday, mom… I still make wishes for you too.

Damien

Play - The Blower’s Daughter by Damien Rice

Mireya wants to go back home tonight, but I’m aware that she’s been working for hours on the assignment I gave the class, with her friend Hayzel which has also taken a toll on her.

Again, it’s concerning.

She had been reluctant to let me drive her home, but I didn’t give her much of a choice. I know how that sounds. I know the line I’m standing on. I’m her professor still, and I’m supposed to be the person who keeps distance, who stays objective and all.

But when it comes to her safety, objectivity becomes harder to hold onto.

She has been in the library all day, and I’m certain she didn’t eat anything. I tried to convince myself that waiting in the car for her was about making sure she got home safely.

“Mister Caldwell,” she says smiling as she enters and sits next to me in the passenger seat.

“Miss Vitelli,” I replied, nodding and starting the engine. Her expression looks tired, pretty sure she’s hungry and lacks sleep but that’s not new for her.

“Is the assignment done?”

She sighs and looks back at me with a sarcastic smile, “Yes kinda,” she stops and looks back at me, her brows furrowed, “Although I would like to point out that our very kind and generous professor may have underestimated the psychological damage of that assignment.”

I smile, looking back at her, “It was just a two-part analysis.”