As they climbed the stairs to Flora’s room, Kendall felt a mix of apprehension and hope. The hallway was lined with framed photos, memories of happier moments that brought warmth to her heart. The tension from the previous day began to feel lighter with every step, and the familiar smell of Flora's room—a blend of lavender and old books—welcomed her back.
Flora flopped onto her bed, the comforter still slightly rumpled from the chaotic morning. She motioned for Kendall to sit beside her. Kendall settled down, placing the photo album between them like a bridge over yesterday's chasm.
“Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here,” Flora said, opening the album with a gentle flick. The pages turned with a delicate rustling, revealing snapshots of their shared history: birthday parties, road trips, goofy selfies—all the moments that stitched their friendship together.
“Oh wow, remember this?” Flora laughed, pointing to a picture from last summer, where both of them were covered in ice cream, laughing uncontrollably. Kendall couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory, feeling the warmth of their bond reemerging.
“Yeah, and you were the one who suggested we try to make our own sundae,” Kendall teased. “Look how that turned out!”
“Hey! That was still a good idea… in theory!” Flora protested playfully, pressing a finger to Kendall’s shoulder.
Kendall smiled, then turned serious. “Flora, I’m really sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
Flora paused, her playful demeanor fading just slightly. “Me too. I didn’t mean to dismiss something you love. Just because I don’t like that song doesn’t mean it doesn't matter to you. I guess I was a little too harsh.”
Kendall nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t handle it well, either. I just felt like you were attacking something I cared about. It’s silly, right? It's just a song.”
Flora closed the album for a moment and looked into Kendall’s eyes. “It’s not silly. It’s our passions that make us who we are. I overreacted, and I’m glad we’re here now.”
Reopening the album, they continued flipping through the pages, occasionally pausing to reminisce about the stories behind each snapshot. The laughter returned, punctuated by the sound of Flora’s gentle teasing and Kendall’s playful retorts.
As they reached the end of the album, Flora said, “Let’s promise to be more honest with each other from now on. No more hurtful comments, okay?”
“Deal,” Kendall said, feeling a sense of renewal. “And if I ever get defensive about a song again, just remind me that I’m not making a life-or-death case for it.”
“Deal,” Flora echoed, and they both erupted into laughter again.
For now, the dust of yesterday had settled, and their friendship felt safer, stronger. As they continued to look through the memories—the pitfalls and triumphs of their young lives—Kendall knew that no song, no argument, could ever erase what they had built together. Their friendship was the melody, and everything else was just background noise.