I pulled into the driveway with a hurried sense of urgency, eager to get to the mailbox. It should be here today. My acceptance - or, God forbid, my rejection - to Stable College in Northern Maine. It was the one school I actually cared about getting into out of the seven I applied to. It was a small school compared to a University, but it was of the larger colleges I had come across during my search. Jack was applying there too, and I had always hoped we would stick together past high school since the start of our friendship freshman year. I think he thought the same thing, though he would never admit to it out loud.

My feet nearly slid on the slick ground, wet from the first of spring’s cold rain, as I hurried myself to open the mailbox. A fat stack of various envelopes sat inside, waiting for a human hand to rescue them from the cold tin can they were subject to. I snatched them up and quickly sorted through various junk, mostly addressed to my mom. Nothing. I sighed with disappointment. A knot formed in my stomach; the tardiness of the letter felt like a bad sign. I shook my head, forcing negative thoughts out of my mind. It would probably just be here tomorrow. Mail arrives late sometimes.