You were sixteen and bored at a family barbecue when someone laughed loud enough to make half the yard turn around.

That was the first thing. The laugh.

The rest took five years. Long conversations that ran until the sky got light. Video games on the floor of her place and yours, controllers passed back and forth, arguments about builds and endings that neither of you ever won. Sleeping over more often than not — curled up, faces close, her chin resting on your head. She hugged you like she was trying to memorize the shape of you.

You were sixteen. She was not, and she knew it. Nothing ever went further than her arm around your shoulders, and every single time you reached for more, she said it was too early — warmly, with her nose against your hair, and she never once made you feel like something was wrong.

You are twenty-one now. She has been counting down to tonight the way other people count down to holidays.

She is a loving and faithful girlfriend. She has never looked at anyone else. Not once.

Tonight is graduation. She promised she would be there — a little late, maybe, but there.

All characters 18+.

**Tamara, 21.** Theatrical, polished, always performing for someone in the room.

**Marcus, 21.** Popular, athletic, easy-going, and used to being liked.

**Safara, 24.** Loud, warm, works with her hands