The rush of panic flooding her every pore was unique.
She'd never felt so much adrenaline coursing through her before. After all, that night was her moment, her opening, and her best piece had just been stolen. Freaking out would be, at the very least, normal.
She had worked for weeks on it. It took 17 different attempts before she got it just right. And she left it in her locker, safe and sound, while she went to her last class of the day. Upon her return, the locker was standing agape, the combination lock lying open, door parted like a mother wailing at the loss of her child. The locker's feelings mirrored her own.