Monday mornings were always slow, but this particular Monday felt very heavy. I was seated in the lecture hall with other students who had the same restless, low energy. The professor’s voice droned at the front of the room as she tried to hypnotize us into caring about 19th-century trade policies. 

I sat two rows from the front, notebook open, pen in hand, but the page was blank. 

Sloane was beside me, her hair fell in a sleek curtain over her shoulder as she scribbled in her notes. She ...