Academic Weapons in Love

Before my roommate, Chloe, left for her out-of-town internship, she solemnly pressed her barely-used, prepaid study lounge membership card into my hands.

She gripped my shoulders, her face twisted in utter heartbreak.

"Maya, this pass expires soon. Do not let it go to waste. To an academic weapon, every single second is lined with gold."

I accepted it reverently. But day after day of drowning in my books, something shameful happened: I caught feelings.

When Chloe finally finished her internship and hauled all her bags back into our dorm, I was the first to confess with starry eyes: