In the Wrong Space and Time

XV

8th February 2019, 10:28pm

I open the door to the dormitory, with a towel draped neatly over my shoulders. Having just finished taking an unpleasant, frigid shower, the ends of my hair are still dripping continually and the water droplets show no signs of ceasing.

The loud whirring of the hairdryer breaks the stillness of the night, as my usually-fashion-conscious roommate filters hot air through her damp chocolate-brown mane. 

"Why are you using the hairdryer, Tyra? Aren't you scared the heat will damage your hair, or something?" I have to raise my voice slightly to be heard over the incessant humming of the appliance.

"I hate every bit of this, Caroline," Tyra grumbles as she shuts the hairdryer off with a click of her finger. "My hair's going to be so frizzy and gross tomorrow. The only reason why I'm doing this is so that I can get to bed quickly. Today was a bloody tiring day."

Tyra plops face-first into her stack of pillows and immediately descends into a fit of mad sneezing. I can only look on, simultaneously alarmed and amused as the dust flies upwards and hangs around Tyra's spasming figure. 

"WHO - IN THE BLOODY HELL - CLEANED THIS FUCKING PLACE?!" Tyra lets out an impressive stream of swearing and sneezes, each expletive punctuated with a new sneeze, increasing in intensity with each new spasm.

I can't help but laugh mockingly at her, but to my detriment, I inhale a large amount of dust as I open my mouth to let out a peal of laughter. I choke mid-guffaw and begin coughing my damned lungs out, heaving for air and just exacerbating the problem as each new inhale brings more dust into my raw throat.

With streaming eyes, I make a frantic grab for my inhaler set conveniently on my nightstand, and take two puffs of the medicine. I try to control my breathing and try to suppress the coughing. Feeling a sense of relief settle over me as my lungs stop seizing up after an indefinite period of time, I throw the inhaler over to Tyra, who doesn't even care that medicine is not supposed to be shared as she injects a cloud of medicine into her mouth.

"Serbes you right, you biece of crab," Tyra says in a very congested fashion. "D'you think it's too late to ask Field Marshal Brimero for a change of rooms?"

I shake my head and reply, my voice still hoarse from the bout of asthma. "I think it's too late, and besides, I bet all the rooms are this nasty."

"I can't believe we're going to have to sleep on these shitty pillows. Imagine the amount of acne I'll have tomorrow!" Tyra groans, her voice regaining some semblance of normalcy after taking a few large sniffs to clear the mucous in her nose.

"They won't harm your appearance," I give her a playfully wry grin. "In fact, they might actually improve it, ugly mug that you have."

"You little tosser-" Tyra grabs a pillow, about to lob it at me, but thinks twice after she sees the tiny dust cloud illuminated by the fluorescent lights.

"Instant immunity," I crow in delight.

"Quite the opposite, actually - you've got asthma," Tyra makes the decision to throw the pillow at me, and I shriek, dodging the musty missile.

"Stop, we're going to sneeze all over again," I exclaim, but even I don't pay my own words any heed as I seize one of my own pillows and throw it at the brunette. The pillow falls onto Tyra's bedspread, missing her by a few centimetres. 

"Your aim is so bad," Tyra scoffs and launches another pillow. This time, it hits me squarely in the face, and I break out into a series of sneezes.

"Why are we even having a pillow fight? We're killing our respiratory systems," I sniff pathetically as my nose clogs up.

"We're having fun like some three-year-olds, respiratory system be damned," Tyra is still laughing, holding a shielding hand over her mouth and nose to prevent any excess dust from entering her nose.