—Charles Schulz FOCUS, KIM REPRIMANDED herself. Keep to the task at hand and stop eavesdropping on other people’s conversations. But she didn’t need to hear the crack of the teenage boy’s heart to feel his pain. Or to remember the last time she’d heard the wretched words “I’m leaving” spoken to her. She tried to ignore the couple as she picked up the pastry bag filled with pink icing and continued to decorate the tops of the strawberry preserve cupcakes. However, the discussion between the high school boy and what she assumed to be his girlfriend kept her attentive. “When will I see you again?” he asked. Kim glanced toward them and leaned closer. “I don’t know,” the girl replied. The soft lilt in her accent thrust the familiarity of the conversation even deeper into Kim’s soul. “I’ll be going to the university for two years,” the girl continued. “Maybe we meet again after.” Not likely. Kim shook her head, and her stomach tightened. From past experience, she knew once the school year was over in June, most foreign students went home, never to return.
