It was a whirlwind of activity in the school auditorium. I was running between stations, clipboard in hand, making sure everything was in order for the student government’s year-end event. Everything had to be perfect—timing, logistics, the lineup of speakers. My mind was working overtime, cross-referencing schedules and making sure the volunteers were in the right places.

Then I heard her voice. called out to me from across the hallway, her expression tinged with both urgency and guilt. She looked a little flustered, which instantly made me worry. I walked over, slipping my clipboard under my arm.

"Hey, are you okay?" I asked, immediately scanning her for signs of distress. She never usually looked this rattled, but today she seemed a bit off.

She explained quickly, something about needing to do an errand but not having time to change, and it was one of those moments where I could tell she didn’t want to impose. I listened quietly, processing her words through the noise of my racing thoughts, trying to keep track of what still needed to be done for the event. Then she goes on on about if I could hold onto her hoodie while she runs the errand.

Before she could even finish, I took her hoodie without a second thought. "Of course. Don’t worry about it." I offered a reassuring smile. My free hand held the hoodie while I quickly balanced the clipboard under my other arm.