It was still the same afternoon of Chandra’s undergrad days, the young Chandra walking the path to the library after saying goodbye to Elga.

She greeted the very pregnant Ms. Lasma, taking one of the keys to the library lockers where students and visitors could store their belongings. Her bag now safely put away, she tucked her planner under one arm and a 2B pencil behind one ear.

Several of her classmates waved hello as she walked towards the anthropology section, most of them having the same idea to start their theses early. She waved a hello in return. Taking a breath as she finally reached the anthropology shelves, she took her planner out from under her arm and began scanning the titles with fingers brushed against the spines. 

She couldn’t see what was so interesting about Ivan, the fellow basketball player that Elga was eyeing, when anthropology was so infinitely fascinating. 

Here, among the books on the shelves, were whole conversations on how human beings find themselves in connection with one another. How we’re connected in the ways we communicate our languages, how we gather to create community, how we’re connected to our ancestors, and connected to all socio-political events in history. We are, as persevering and as stubborn as ever, in the midst of it all. 

Much more fascinating than being romantically involved with anyone, surely. 

She continued to walk among the shelves, the call numbers of the books beginning to match the first title on her list. She was looking so intently at the books that she didn’t realize someone was doing the same in the opposite direction. Their shoulders, in true fiction novel fashion, bumped into one another.

“Oh!” the other person turned, dipping their head in an apology. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” 

“No, no worries. It was my bad,” Chandra turned towards them. 

The person who she had just bumped into had several books propped up on one side of their hip and a slip of paper in one hand. Part of their straight, long hair was tucked behind one of their ears and the rest framed the other side of their face. The sunlight from the window behind them turned strands of their black hair golden brown, creating a soft halo around their face.

They looked incredibly familiar, but the name of said person escaped Chandra completely. Even as their face politely broke into a smile, echoing some distant memory Chandra had of first-year orientation.

The other person pointed to the book where Chandra’s fingers now rested, a book with a maroon cover. “Oh, hey! Were you looking for this book too?” they turned their slip of paper around to show Chandra the title that was written there: Anthropology and Dance. 

Chandra nodded. She absentmindedly noted how neat their handwriting was, the character 林 written in the corner where one usually writes their name. She turned her own piece of paper around to show that it had the same title.

The other person smiled. “You’re also in your seventh semester, right?” they placed the slip of paper into their pocket. “Are you gonna use this book for your thesis?”

The knowledge that they were in the same year made Chandra feel guilty that she couldn’t remember their name. “I am, yeah. Are you?”

“I think so,” they slowly nodded. “But I’m more interested in the dance bit than the anthropology bit, if I’m being honest.”

Chandra tilted her head. “Oh? Are you a dancer then?” 

“Yeah,” they laughed a little. “I’m thinking of just writing my thesis on being in the dance studio, since I take a lot of classes. As an anthropological experience, of course.”

Chandra raised her eyebrows. An anthropological observation on being in the dance studio? Interesting. 

She glanced at the book on the shelf before taking her fingers off of its spine. She nodded towards it. “You go ahead, you can take the book first.”

“Oh—really?” The other person looked surprised.

“Yeah,” Chandra smiled, tucking her planner under her arm. “Your idea sounds like it would make for a pretty cool thesis. This book can’t be checked though, so if you don't mind, I’ll just wait at one of the tables till you’re done.”

“Oh, well…” The other person gently took the book off the shelf and looked up at Chandra. “Do you wanna sit together, then? I can pass it to you when I’m done since I was just gonna skim through it for a bit.”

“Oh,” Chandra blinked at them. “Is that alright?”

The other person laughed. “Of course it’s alright!” they looked at Chandra with a particular kind of certainty, holding out their hand to formally make an acquaintance. “Chandra, right?” 

“Yeah,” Chandra quickly racked her brain for the name that belonged to the person in front of her, mentally scanning through all the names in the anthropology undergrad group chat. 

She decided to guess, hoping on her stars that she would be correct as she greeted the other person’s hand with her own. “Kaira, right?” 

The girl named Kyra grinned. “Close. It’s pronounced Kee-ra, actually,” she shook Chandra’s hand warmly. “But yup, that’s me!”