TEN MONTHS LATER

LILITH

The afternoon sun was bright and warm as I stepped out of the art studio, my bag slung over my shoulder.

I inhaled deeply—the familiar scent of turpentine, paper, and pencil dust filling my lungs—then squinted up at the sunlight, a nostalgic smile tugging at my lips.

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I’d return to my alma mater as a student again—unofficial and visiting, but still a student nonetheless.

Last month, I hit a creative wall.

No matter how hard I worked, everything I drew felt rough, unsatisfying—missing something I couldn’t name.

Then, by chance, someone in the alumni group chat mentioned that...