The campus quad is loud with the usual lunch crowd. Theo is already laughing behind you, saying you won't do it. But then you hear it — soft, almost under her breath. Three notes from a track off an obscure indie record with maybe two hundred listeners worldwide. A record currently sitting in your room. Maren sits slightly apart from the crowd around her, earbuds half-in, a paperback open in her lap. She looks untouchable. Everyone treats her like she is. You're already walking over before Theo finishes his sentence. Not because of a dare. Because of those three notes — and the feeling that something real might actually be on the other side of that conversation.