There goes the squiggly

"You should've shifted earlier," I typed. "You've taken two but they're, err, not counted, right?"

"Yup," Misha replied. "It's okay. Then it's like I took seven."

Unimaginable laughter.

I did hear about her plan to finally drop her business course to concentrate fully on being a communicator. It was a slight mention on my birthday, which somehow managed to quickly spread across the rest of the batch. It's nothing really new, since Burton did that a few terms back, and he's enjoying his photography more than anything.

This week, I finally saw her name on the approved internal shiftees list. I don't know why I always look there - maybe it's curiosity, me always wondering whether anyone from my batch would even think of shifting a course. Her name isn't a stranger to this list, because she shifted before - her business degree, at least - and now, that's gone, too.

"And you're brainier than all of us," I typed in, with a wide grin on the other end. "I thought you'll end up taking all the other electives that aren't film-related since you're pretty much taken two of them."

"What?" she replied. "I don't understand that."

More subtle laughter on the other end.

"Well," I continued. "There's [film writing], you've taken it..."

Maybe it's my recall again, or I felt like a stalker. But people auditing courses is a common thing.

"...[post-production], you've taken it... [cinematography], you haven't... I think."

"No I couldn't," she replied, "because it was the same as my accounting class."

And then I remembered. That's why she had to leave so early during film writing class. Yes, that class, that little equivalent to literature, where we shared half-true stories about dogs, and bullying, and an extra grandparent. I remember gazing through the door every time the class ends.

"I would have if I could have," she continued. I wonder about the extra word.

"Because that's why you shifted, right?" I continued. "Film director Misha Balangue."

Subtler laughter.

"Just keeping my fingers crossed," she answered.

I got lost in the conversation, since I typed in something about the previous topic. A dream sequence, it seems.

"The world is big out there," she continued. "Who knows what's going to happen to us when we get thrown out into the sea?"

"We will swim," I retorted. Well, more of losing an idea for a reply. "You, the salmon, and I, the starfish."


"Okay. Best of luck to us," she went. The last of her accounting lessons beckon, and for me, well, a one-way ticket back to stressful suicidal land.

"Bye Henrik!"

Laughter. Again.

"Byeee Misha!"

There goes the squiggly.

And your responses...

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