Annabelle can't sleep. It's the night before her very first lecture.

I keep reassuring her that it'll be fine, that college students don't judge so easily, remember our first day, baby? Did you judge any of your professors? Did you think they knew nothing about what they were saying? Were you even awake on the first day? It's okay, because no one was.

I take off her glasses and take her into my arms, rubbing circles onto the skin on her back underneath her shirt.

I make an effort to wake up an hour before her so I can slip into the kitchen and make waffles and sausage and strawberries. Her favorite breakfast.

As I suspected, she stumbles out not fifteen minutes after I've left her side. I immediately send her to take a shower, because it'll help take some of your stress away, don't try and argue with me, I'm too tired.

And she comes out, takes a seat. I stand behind her as she starts to eat, carding my fingers through her hair and humming. I slip a ponytail off my wrist and twist her hair up into a bun. She's wearing a thin maroon turtleneck and jeans. I have half a mind to put a cat sticker on her cheek, but decides she's already kinda having a breakdown, and that may not be as funny as I think it'd be.

So I take it upon myself to drive us in her truck to the university, and send her off with a light kiss.

"Don't worry about it too much, love," I say imploringly. "They wouldn't have gotten into a good college like this if they were stupid enough to not like you."

She can only offer a half-smile, but her eyes convey how grateful she is.