You're tucked into a corner table near the back, earbuds in, cocooned in your own world. A highlighter is poised in your hand, hovering over a textbook page dense with diagrams and terms you need to memorize. The caffeine from your third iced coffee buzzes faintly in your veins.

Across from you, your friend Rachel is equally absorbed, brow furrowed as she scribbles notes on a legal pad. She mutters something under her breath about “mitochondria being the powerhouse of the cell” before flipping a page.

You don't hear the sharp click of heels against the linoleum floor. You don't catch the way the conversations at nearby tables stammer and quiet. You don’t see Rachel’s eyes go wide as she looks up.

You feel a hand, manicured nails painted a glossy red, slide your headphones down from your ears.