Nayeon didn't actually realize what a momentous day it was. It was a dreary Friday, there was rain on the way, and she'd gotten up at six am to do a few hours of reading for those increasingly worrying essays whose deadlines had begun to loom with disturbing menace. Friday's also meant that she got to spend more time with Jeongyeon once her final class over for the day. They got to do the usual which was eat while watching a movie together. Jeongyeon's face was always displayed on the television whenever Nayeon found the time to set it all up. They got to spend the rest of the evening together and with longer hours.

Neither of them wanted to go out on Fridays, having set that date for this occasion. Their newfound college friends were disappointed in them for always declining their offers but they never got tired of bringing it up.

Red-eyed, yawning, and shivering from the cold, Nayeon made her way and dragged her sleep-deprived body up countless flights of stairs to reach a small, stuffy little classroom in a back building. She pulled out pen and notepad, as she always did. She was endearingly old-fashioned in this respect, until essay-writing season comes round, and then she began spewing out incredibly unladylike volleys of swear words as she searched desperately for a three-word summary of Mikhail Bakhtin's theories that she scribbled in an almost-illegible hand ten weeks before.

Then, scrunching up her sleep-deprived eyes, she tried to switch her brain into 'concentrate' mode so that her professor's outline didn't blur alarmingly every time she glanced at them. That Nayeon failed totally in this attempt is evidenced by the fact that the first two questions she answered in-class were directed at three identical, fuzzy figures. She could only hope her professor wasn't alarmed by the fact that she appeared to be giving an answer to the whiteboard eraser.

The entire class passed in a similar sleep-deprived haze, and it wasn't until the very end, as they were all packing up our things, that one of her classmates exclaimed, "I can't believe that lecture went on forever! Don't cha think?".

If this had been any other semester, this remark wouldn't have been that momentous. But this time it was different. There was a special significance to her words that it took Nayeon a moment to fully grasp. Friday was just like any other to other people but it wasn't for Nayeon. Because she always had a date with Jeongyeon — through the phone. Nayeon did plan to visit Jeongyeon during Christmas break which was in two months or so.

This wasn't even her last class for the day. She had another one in two hours. Or the last class of first year, or any other year for that matter. But any class that was over was a relief to Nayeon who had never missed the significance of it even once. She was always glad to be over with one class, knowing she usually had only two or three classes scheduled.

Nayeon's been at university for a year now. In actuality, she's been a student for most of her life: since the age of six, she's been putting on uniforms, writing essays (okay, maybe not from the age of six, unless you count a few polemics on which Spice Girls single is better [in case you're wondering, the answer is always 'Stop Right Now']), and writing 'Occupation: Student' on airport immigration cards and tax forms. Learning has been her only consistent and engrossing occupation since before she knew how to tie her shoelaces.

So, as you can imagine, it's a little daunting to realize that her days of staring at whiteboards and overhead projectors will soon come to an end. That she may never take another university class, and that her days of addressing her teachers as 'Mr Smith' and 'Professor Brown' may very well be over. The fact that the one, stable aspect of her identity, the one which has helped her anchor herself and understand her place within society, is gradually disappearing.

She's always defined herself as a learner. Since she was a little girl, her life has been predicated on the assumption that she has more learning to do, that she was in perpetual and constant need of knowledge, like a bubble-making machine that's constantly running out of washing liquid. When you're little, the idea of finishing university is so very distant that you imagine that once you're finished, you'll have all the answers. You'll be so smart. You will finally have reached the end of an eighteen-year journey and somehow, miraculously, you will have got your together.

And, she has sat at a desk that a million other people have already made their mark on (which is sort of a disgusting thought to begin with), and what did she feel? She felt, if it's possible, even less secure than that adorable six-year-old with her little pigtails and the school backpack that was three times her size and weighs, from memory, roughly as much as a baby seal.

Her lifetime of learning has not succeeded in giving her all the answers – it had only succeeded in making her understand that, in some ways, she knew almost nothing at all.

Her life at university has been one of constantly learning about all the things that she has yet to learn about. This, as you can probably imagine, was an incredibly sobering thought. Nayeon woke up right away just thinking about that.

But knowledge is like that. It's not solid. It's not eternal. It fluctuates, and moves, and changes shapes. It disappears for many years, only to resurface thanks to the strangest and most confusing of stimuli: television programs, Taylor Swift concerts, visits to the aquarium. Most of all, it demands constant expansion, addition, re-evaluation.

Knowledge is the greediest, hungriest friend you will ever know. It pushes you to new heights, it calls you out on your prejudices and assumptions, and sometimes, at the most wonderful times, it surprises you with a burst of the purest inspiration.

It's a source of self-confidence and self-appreciation, but sometimes it also smacks you in the back of the head when you're not looking, as its own strange way of reminding you that it must not be allowed to stagnate, that knowledge will only contribute to your own development if you develop it in return.

And now that Nayeon was walking out of the first class out of her two scheduled classes for the day and about to head out to grab some grub, her mood couldn't be anymore elevated. Her stomach had been growling since her touched the wooden seat and the professor walked in five minutes later, looking unready and disorganized than she was. That gave her a laugh for the morning and the rest of the class seemed to agree, but on a quieter level.

A close acquaintance in that class came up to her. Her name was Joy. Ironic how her name is such a fulgent adjective because her personality was the same.

They weren't exactly best buds but she was part of the study group that another one of her uni friends had created to get through their tough college periods. It really did help Nayeon, and she had begun to grow close with them. At least some of them. She didn't really bother to make close connections with every pair of eyes that she made contact with.

The friend walked right up to her, books in arms, trying to keep up with Nayeon's pace. The girl had such long limbs that she could've joined the track team or even take up gymnastics.

"Hey, Nayeon! What are you up to this afternoon?"

Her light brown eyes, almost transparent, looked at Nayeon, awaiting her answer. The matching smile she had told Nayeon that she wanted to do something with her. In a way, it was kind of sadistically pleasant.

"Uhh, I actually didn't have breakfast before going to class so I was going to have brunch at work and then head to my last class of the day."

Nayeon laughed at her slight carelessness to take care of herself. The friend didn't get the joke but decided to reply with a simper, to ease the air of awkwardness. That was nice of her and Nayeon gave an inwards sigh of delight.

The part where Nayeon was going to eat at work was definitely a fact. She had started to work at a restaurant since the second semester of her freshmen year. Her parents insisted that she shouldn't even have to work for anything since they didn't mind sending her as much money as she needed for literally anything.

Nayeon, being the modest girl that she was, declined her parents persistence, saying she wanted to work to gain the experience. Convincing their daughter otherwise was then not up for discussion. The place where she worked at gave good pay and Nayeon used that to buy groceries and food for Kookeu. In addition, the people she worked with were extremely friendly, making her job quite easier. The pocket money her parents sent was used for her heart's content.

She started out by washing dishes and doing simple chores like mopping and cleaning around the kitchen. Because of her hospitality and friendliness towards the staff, the manager quickly promoted her to work up front. The new job she was assigned wasn't to serve tables. She was given something else, much better than carrying trays and running around or washing people's dirty dishes. Nayeon was the hostess and greeted everyone at the door with a bright and cheerful smile, even on her bad days.

Today wasn't her shift. She had a Friday's and Saturday's off. Sunday she would be working but she didn't have a lot of assignments to attend to anyways, having them already done on her days off.

Joy was practically skipping towards the door with a gleaming smile on her face. Nayeon couldn't keep up with her pace, walking right after her and wondering how she had so much energy in the morning. She needed that to balance work, school, and a social life and to look like she barely had anything on her plate.

The hostess for the hour was pleased to see Joy come in but when her eyes went to Nayeon, she wanted to explode in laughter. As a professional working in an elite eating establishment, she had to remain unfazed by her coworker's presence.

"Hello, good afternoon. Welcome to Oliv