Fox, Bull, and Three Second Memory

Maya's phone buzzed during third period history. Fox, as her best friend Keisha had been nicknamed since seventh grade for her sly ability to get out of anything, had texted: *don't sit w us at lunch anymore. it's awkward.*

Maya stared at the screen, her chest tightening. Just like that? Four years of friendship down because some people on student council thought Keisha was too weird?

The cafeteria was a minefield. Maya sat alone, scrolling through texts while picking at her lunch. Across the room, Fox laughed with the popular crew, performing her new personality like it was a role she'd rehearsed.

"That's bull," someone said behind her.

Maya turned. It was Leo, the quiet guy from her English class who always wore oversized hoodies. He gestured at Fox's table. "She's being fake. You don't deserve that."

Maya shrugged. "Whatever."

"My brother used to say people are like goldfish," Leo said unexpectedly. "They forget what matters in three seconds flat." He paused. "But some things stick."

That weekend, Maya deleted the thousand photos of her and Fox. Some things shouldn't stick. When Keisha—no one called her Fox anymore—tried to slide back into her life two months later after her new friends got bored, Maya didn't even look up from her phone.

Some memories aren't worth keeping.