Echoes of Elysium

Int. Aria Everhart

The insistent chirping of a phone alarm cuts through the pre-dawn darkness. A hand, adorned with chipped purple nail polish, reaches out from under a mountain of blankets and fumbles for the source of the noise.

The room is a testament to organized chaos, typical of a college student. Textbooks are stacked precariously on the floor, competing for space with discarded clothing and half-finished sketches. Fairy lights are strung haphazardly around the room, casting a warm glow over a corkboard cluttered with photographs and to-do lists.

The hand finally finds the phone and silences the alarm. A moment later, a head pops out from under the covers, revealing Aria Everhart, a young woman of being 21 years old with messy brown hair and sleep-creased cheeks. She yawns dramatically, stretching her arms above her head before reluctantly throwing back the covers and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

"Ugh, Monday morning," Aria groans, her voice thick with sleep. She runs a hand through her hair, trying to tame its unruly waves. "Just another day in paradise," she mutters sarcastically to herself.

Aria glances at the overflowing laundry basket in the corner and wrinkles her nose. "Maybe paradise involves fewer clothes on the floor," she adds, mostly to herself. With another dramatic sigh, she kicks the blankets off and forces herself to stand up.

Aria stumbles through the obstacle course of her room, narrowly avoiding a toppled stack of books and a precariously placed bag of chips. She reaches her bathroom door and fumbles with the doorknob for a moment before managing to open it with a loud clunk. "One of these days," she mutters, mostly to the door, "I'm going to master the art of waking up gracefully."

The bathroom is small but bright, with a window overlooking a leafy tree outside. Aria flips on the light, momentarily blinding herself. She squints at her reflection in the mirror. Her brown eyes are still clouded with sleep, but a spark of energy flickers within them.

"Alright, Everhart, let's do this," she mutters to her reflection, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

She splashes water on her face, the coolness helping to chase away the last vestiges of sleep. A few minutes later, she's brushing her teeth with one hand and scrolling through messages on her phone with the other, a testament to her multi-tasking abilities.

As she brushes, Aria scrolls through her phone, scanning messages from her friends – mostly weekend recaps and complaints about upcoming exams. A notification from the university news bulletin catches her eye. It reads:

Special Collection Open Today: Rare Books and Manuscripts on Display in the North Wing Library

Aria pauses, intrigued. She loves old books, their musty scent and the weight of history they carry. "Hmm, maybe a quick detour is in order," she says to herself, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Aria finishes her morning routine with a quick hairbrush – her usual solution for unruly bedhead – and a swipe of lip balm. "Good enough," she declares to her reflection, flashing a tired but genuine smile.

She heads back to her room and rummages through her overflowing closet, eventually emerging with a pair of faded jeans, a comfy band t-shirt, and a cozy-looking oversized cardigan. She pulls on her clothes, briefly considering the merits of finding a matching pair of socks before deciding it wasn't worth the effort. "Comfort over style," she tells herself, grabbing her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder.

As Aria swings her backpack onto her shoulder, she catches a glimpse of her phone battery icon blinking ominously in the corner of the screen. "Shoot!" she exclaims, "Almost forgot."

She darts back across her chaotic room to her desk, snatching up her phone charger from its tangle with a pair of headphones and a half-eaten bag of gummy bears. "Free charging in the library is a lifesaver," she mutters to herself, shoving the charger into her backpack. "Especially when your life depends on endless scrolling."