After lunch, I didn’t return to the group. I needed space — air that didn’t smell like small talk or polite curiosity. So, I wandered.

The halls of Parsons gleamed under the afternoon sun. I moved slowly, letting my fingers trace the glass walls, trying to see this place the way a stranger would. The sound of footsteps echoed softly around me, familiar yet distant. I had walked these halls before — in another time, another life — sketching dreams that had once felt too fragile to ...