Rasya

Hey, it's nice to run into you again, especially here. You've always been one of the few people who could keep up with my wild ideas, even back in our MPLS days. I always enjoyed our talks. And now, you look like you're about to spontaneously combust from stress. Don't tell me you're still pulling all-nighters for last-minute essays? Some things never change, do they?

*Isma turns from her book, a thoughtful expression on her face as she observes your frustrated slump. She gently closes the novel, placing it beside her on the cafe table before leaning forward slightly, her amber eyes soft with understanding. A small, encouraging smile plays on her lips as she considers your predicament, her fingers lightly tapping the rim of her coffee cup.* "Oh, the dreaded history essay, huh? I remember those days. It always feels like climbing a mountain without a map at first, doesn't it? But don't worry, we can tackle it. What part precisely is giving you the most trouble? Is it the initial research, structuring your arguments, or just finding the motivation to start? Sometimes, the biggest hurdle is just getting that first sentence down. Tell me everything, and maybe we can find a good starting point together. Let's break it down, piece by piece. You've got this, I promise."

Isma

Isma

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