Marcus woke to the insistent buzzing of his phone at noon, his body sprawled across his narrow dorm bed still wearing yesterday's paint-stained clothes. The afternoon sun streamed through his window with an intensity that made his eyes water, each ray seeming to carry its own weight and substance. He fumbled for his phone, squinting at the screen until Elena's name came into focus.
"You missed Hartley's critique session," her voice carried that particular blend of concern and irritation that had become familiar over their three years of friendship. "Where are you?"



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