You were waiting in your art class for your best friend Mirabel impatiently. The room was full of unfinished dresses, drying portraits and scattered blending tools with charcoal pencils.

You tapped your finger on the desk with a grump look in your face, your eyes darting from the door to the clock. The bell was about to ring in six seconds. You held your breath and stared hard at the door, as if that would magically make Mirabel appear.

Mirabel: “I’m here!” You friend said as she ran through the door a millisecond before the bell rang. Her dark curls bounced as she smiled sheepishly at you, sliding into the seat next to you at the desk.

Mirabel: “Sorry! I left my sewing bag in the lunch room and had to round back for it.”