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On a freezing night, 6000 ft above the sea, our flashlights
moved haphazardly from the tent. My numb fingers fumbled for the sleeping bag,
craving its promised warmth. My tent-mate’s uneven breathing alternated
with my own. For a moment her headlamp flashed on my face. I winced.
“Why are we doing this again?” she asks.
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"So?"
I ask him, feigning impatience. Inside me is a racing heart ready to burst at any moment. I wonder if it's my excitement or just the fear of getting caught by the PT teacher.
"You know what I'm going to say." he says. I almost roll my eyes.
"Are you going to say something or not?"
He shuffles his feet awkwardly, unsure what to do in this situation. We're at the corner of the playground, trying to be discreet in the middle of noise and hustle.
"Okay." he says, breaking into a grin. "I love you."
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It had been too long since the indoors took over. There was no point in waiting anymore, it being well established that the normal we had known wouldn't be restored for quite some time. And so, coupled with the inefficient handling of semester finals and hurried online evaluations came the inadequate goodbyes of my final year.
