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I racked the balls, careful not to bend over to far in reaching for them across the table. I was wearing my favorite denim skirt, destroyed after years of wear and tear—with the frayed edges, it had gone from pretty-darn-short to scandalously-short. And that was before I bent over. The bar was still pretty empty, but I noticed a couple of appreciative glances as I carefully leaned over the table.

“You can break,” I said, giving Angie the advantage. I did what I could so she’d keep playing with me, even though I always ended up winning anyway.

She sunk two balls with her first shot, and called stripes. I watched as she missed the next shot.

“So what are you going to do?” she asked, leaning against the table as I bent over and lined up the cue with the ball.

“I don’t know,” I said, trying to put the thought out of my mind. “Switch majors? Spend six months trying to think up a new topic, and then have no time for research? There’s really no good option at this point.”

Angie and I had been roommates since freshman year, when we’d both crossed the country for college in California—I was from a small town in central Massachusetts, and she was from Delaware.

That’s a joke,” I’d told her, the day we’d met. “Nobody really lives in Delaware. It’s like Montana—sure, the map says it exists, but has anyone really investigated?”

Thankfully, she found it funny. We’d been best friends ever since.

And now we were seniors, a semester and a half away from graduating… and up until today, both of us had been on track for the school’s highest honors.

I bit my lip. Up till today.

I moved the cue stick with a tight, controlled shot, so that the white ball hit the solid I’d been aiming for and stopped dead, sending the other ball straight into the corner pocket. Eyeing the table, I looked for my next shot.

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