Micah went to the university the next morning. The campus looked the same as always, students rushing between buildings, bikes leaning against rails, the smell of coffee drifting from the café near the arts hall. Micah strolled leisurely among them.
He had no real reason to attend the workshop. The credits from it wouldn't count toward passing the course anymore. Even if he completed every assignment perfectly, the system had already marked him as unable to pass.
Still, he came anyway. Anything was better than staying at home alone.
The workshop room was already half full when he stepped inside. Large tables were scattered across the room, each covered with fabric samples, sketchbooks, measuring tapes, and half-finished designs. Students talked in small groups while working on their projects, the sound of scissors cutting fabric mixing with quiet chatter.
Micah took his usual seat near the window.
