Page 120 of Left-Hand Larceny

“Sadie!” Dr. Gillian smiles and waves me in. “Have a seat. You look well. New glasses?”

I grin. “Same ones. Just… less stress behind them today, maybe.”

“Well, it suits you.”

Their office is small but warm—plants in the windows, a beanbag in the corner with a stack of outdated anatomy books,and a tiny pink lava lamp that hasn’t moved in two years. The office smells like lavender and printer toner. There’s a tiny Zen fountain burbling in the corner, a well-loved Pride flag on the bookshelf, and sticky notes with things like

hydrate or die-rate

and

Due dates are social constructs, but science is forever.

scribbled in Sharpie. It’s chaos and calm in equal measure. Kind of like them. I remember asking them to be my adviser precisely because of the clutter. It felt… familiar.

They smile as I sit.

“Hey, Sadie. Congrats on submitting your capstone. It read beautifully.”

“Thanks,” I say, even though my armpits are already sweating through my hoodie. “It nearly killed me.”

Dr. Gillian chuckles and leans back in their chair. “That’s how we know it’s good work.”

I half-laugh, half-wince. My leg bounces under the table.

“So,” they say gently, pulling up something on their tablet. “Graduation’s around the corner. Let’s talk about next steps.”

And there it is. The question I’ve been avoiding like moldy leftovers in the back of the fridge.

“I wanted to check in,” I say, sitting. “About that. I know I’ve been quiet, but I’m finishing out the program. I’m too close not to.”

“Good.” They nod. “I hoped you would. You’ve put in a lot of work. You deserve the ultimate prize.”

I snort. “That’s generous.” I try not to laugh at the thought of a degree as a prize.

“It’s earned.”

There’s a pause, and I surprise myself by filling it.

“I don’t know what I’m doing after.”

Dr. Gillian leans back slightly. “That’s okay.”

I blink. “It is?”

“Sadie, do you know how many of our students feel that way? Especially in this field? It’s a rigorous program with a thousand directions. Not everyone leaves knowing exactly what they want.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, my lungs relieved.

“You’re one of the most hard-working students I’ve ever advised,” they go on. “And the way you’ve managed your workload—especially with the challenges you’ve worked through—has been remarkable.”

I frown slightly. “Challenges?”

Oof. Direct hit.

They tilt their head thoughtfully.

“It’s hard going through life masking, trying to fit into someone else’s version of you.”

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