Under the Grit

Where to Start

Evangeline sat at her small desk, a makeshift workspace littered with notebooks, scattered papers, and half-empty coffee mugs that served as an unintentional tribute to her late nights spent researching. The sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air, but the warm glow did little to chase away the chill of frustration settling in her chest.

Her laptop hummed quietly, the screen filled with tabs of articles and videos about gang activity in the area—each one more disheartening than the last. She leaned back in her chair, letting out a long sigh that felt like it could deflate her entire being. This project was supposed to be her chance to dig deep, to uncover truths and give voice to those often overlooked. But instead, it felt like she was running in circles, trapped in a labyrinth of information that didn't quite fit together.

Evangeline's fingers hovered over the keyboard, itching to type something meaningful, but the words eluded her like shadows. She felt a familiar knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach, the pressure mounting as she considered how much she still needed to learn. No matter how many articles she read or interviews she attempted, the pieces of the puzzle just wouldn't align.

She turned her attention to her notes, scribbled in a frantic scrawl, the edges frayed from her constant flipping back and forth. There were names, dates, and half-formed ideas that seemed brilliant in the haze of caffeine and desperation but now looked like nothing more than a jumbled mess. Evangeline bit her lip, her thoughts drifting back to Arthur and their brief conversation at the shop. He had seemed knowledgeable, perhaps even passionate about the subject. Maybe he could help her? But the thought of reaching out filled her with a mix of hope and anxiety.

Rubbing her temples, she stood and paced the small room, trying to shake off the tension. As she walked, her gaze fell upon the necklace Ben had given her, glinting in the sunlight. It was a reminder of his support and their budding relationship, a flicker of warmth in her otherwise cluttered thoughts. She could reach out to Arthur, but what if he didn't want to be involved? What if he didn't remember her?

Evangeline stopped in her tracks, taking a deep breath. "Get it together," she whispered to herself, trying to quell the rising tide of doubt. She glanced back at her laptop, her heart pounding with indecision. Should I just go for it?

Her gaze drifted to her phone across the desk, its screen still lit with a gentle glow. She tried to convince herself to leave it be, to focus on her project and put off the uncertainty of reaching out to Arthur. But the tug of curiosity and the glimmer of hope pulled her in like a magnetic force. With a hesitant sigh, she picked it up.

She had added Arthur's number into her contacts after leaving the shop, the memory of their brief interaction fresh in her mind. He had been intriguing, his insights into the local gang scene sparking an interest that felt like a lifeline in her academic struggles. But as she sat there, her fingers poised over the screen, a wave of anxiety washed over her. What if he didn't respond? What if he thought she was too forward for asking for his help?

Evangeline glanced around the room nervously, as if expecting Ben to walk in and catch her in this moment of vulnerability. The walls seemed to close in, and the quiet of the apartment felt suddenly oppressive. She shook her head, willing the negative thoughts away. You need this, she reminded herself. It's just research.

Taking a deep breath, she opened a new message, her heart racing. She typed out a simple introduction, explaining her project and how she found his perspective valuable. Before she could second-guess herself, she added a question about whether he'd be willing to meet up to discuss it further. The words flowed faster than she expected, each letter a step toward breaking down the wall of uncertainty that had been building inside her.