Friends

Countless cracks turned the entire door from transparent to the bluish white of shattered glass.

A clerk hurried over and pulled open the handle. "Sorry, we usually put up a 'Caution: Glass' sign here, but today we..."

"It's okay..."

Hesta covered her forehead miserably and staggered back two steps. Just as she was about to say something, she stepped on the roll-up banner she had dragged earlier. On the hard, carpetless floor, its warped, broken metal base slid beneath her feet like two crude rollers. Her foot slipped, and she fell flat on her back. A storage basket on the nearby table was knocked over as well, tools raining down on her head and face while countless artsy slogans the shop had intended to stick back onto the glass door scattered through the air.

The colorful strips of paper fluttered down, drifting everywhere.

The string of commotion finally made everyone in the study room stop what she was doing. People rose and turned toward the exit curiously, and amid the noise, rapid footsteps approached.

"Jane?"

Hearing that familiar voice, Hesta felt like she had turned into a Tennessee Sheep again. Her mind went blank, and she could only force herself to look up.

"Hi, Ksenia..."

A slogan spiraled down and finally landed in Hesta's tangled hair.

"Love is a strange illness."

In the study room staff office, Hesta sat back in a wheeled computer chair. In front of her, Ksenia bent down and disinfected her cheek with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball.

"How did you manage to fall like that? On the mountain that day, you seemed pretty nimble..." Ksenia murmured. "Does it hurt?"

Hesta shook her head.

"Is that so? That's good." Ksenia smiled. "The wound doesn't look very deep, but just to be safe, shouldn't you go to