I stood in the empty hallway watching Javier disappear around the corner, his bag bouncing with every enthusiastic step. The kid probably had a study schedule color-coded by subject and emotional intensity.
Checking my phone showed 11:08. Vale's class started at noon. Fifty-two minutes of nothing stretching ahead of me like an invitation to poor choices.
The smart move would be heading back to the apartment, reviewing notes, maybe doing some light stretching to keep my muscles from staging a full revolt after Misato's morning torture session.
Instead I walked.
No destination. No map. Just movement and the California sun turning everything gold.
"Getting lost on the road of life," I said to nobody, because apparently I was the kind of person who quoted ninja philosophy while wandering aimlessly now.
