Spring had truly come to Westbridge University. Cherry blossoms shed their pink snow along the cobblestone paths, and the crisp air carried the scent of freshly cut grass and distant hope. In her small dorm room, Amelia Vale stood before her closet, staring at the neat row of clothes that felt like costumes from a play that had ended its run.
She touched the sleeve of the emerald silk blouse she'd worn to the Vale Foundation Gala. It felt foreign now, like an artifact from a museum of someone else's life. She pushed it aside and selected a simple grey sweater instead.
