Kingsley Salvatore
I walked into the classroom five minutes early, marker already in hand, sleeves rolled up like always.
The room was silent as usual, her notebook open and laptop glowing. My eyes found her immediately.
Sara sat near the back again, pink top soft against the gray chair, blonde hair falling over one shoulder as she bent over her notebook. She was writing fast, focused, like the world didn’t exist outside those pages.
She no makeup today either—just that natural flush on her cheeks and the faint shadows under her eyes that made me want to ask if she’d slept.
I cleared my throat and started.
“Alright, let’s pick up where we left off yesterday. Today we’re diving into wireframing and basic UI logic. Grab your sketchpad or open Figma if you prefer digital.”
I turned t
