Between the desks

Chapter 1

Elizabeth's pov

Ring ring ring... ring ring ring...

The shrill sound of my alarm slices through the peace. I groan and slam my hand down on my phone, desperately clinging to the last threads of sleep. I lie there, staring at the ceiling, my mind heavy with one question: Why, God? Why?

I want to melt back into my pillow, let the world continue spinning without me. But no. I have responsibilities now. I have to go. I drag my leg out from beneath the warm blankets, my body fighting every inch. I curse under my breath. Why did I agree to this job again? My second leg follows reluctantly, and with a sigh, I stand. The air is cooler than I expected, making me shiver as I stumble downstairs, rubbing my eyes, half-blind from sleep.

The first thing I do in the morning—no, the only thing that keeps me alive in the morning—is coffee. Without it, I might as well be a ghost. I groggily make my cappuccino, listening to the comforting whirr of the machine. My eyes flutter shut for a moment as the smell of coffee fills the kitchen, and for the first time today, I feel the faint stirrings of life in me. The radio murmurs in the background, but I can't bring myself to focus on the news. Too early for that.

I'm not a morning person. I never have been. But this job... This job demands I become one. Teaching at the university of applied sciences—a dream come true, really. I love my job. Just... not the mornings. Definitely not the mornings. Today is my first day back after summer break, and I feel like my brain's still on vacation. I'm not in work-mode. I'm not in any mode. And the thought of facing a room full of eager students makes me want to crawl back into bed.

Can I call in sick? The thought crosses my mind, absurd but tempting.

No, I answer myself bitterly. You can't.

I sip my coffee slowly, savoring the warmth that spreads through me. This moment is my sanctuary. In this quiet, I feel the fog start to lift. Coffee never disappoints. By the time I place my empty cup in the dishwasher, I'm more awake, though not entirely willing. It's time to get dressed.

I trudge back upstairs and open my closet, staring blankly at the rows of clothes. What should I wear? My eyes scan the hangers. A suit? Casual? My mind's still foggy. I sigh, reaching for my dark grey suit. It's safe. Professional. Paired with a simple white shirt, it'll do. Not that I care much right now.

I reach for my makeup bag and quickly brush on some light colors. I prefer a natural look—nothing too much, just enough to feel put together. But my hair... My hair is another story. Straightening it takes forever. Long, thick hair that always seems to have a life of its own. I glance at the clock and feel a pang of stress rising in my chest. I don't have time for this.

By the time I finish, it's already 7:30. I rush out the door and into my car... only to feel the cool pavement against my socks. Oh my god. I forgot my shoes.

I cringe, silently cursing my own stupidity. Of course I did. Rushing back inside, I grab my Dr. Martens and shove them on. The clock is ticking. Back in the car, bag slung haphazardly over my shoulder, I start the engine.

"This is my car! This is my car!" I mumble like some kind of mantra, trying to shake off the ridiculousness of the morning.

The drive to college is 30 minutes. I roll down the windows, letting the breeze ruffle my curtain bangs, the sun already warming the air. I can feel sweat pricking at the back of my neck, and I immediately regret the suit. Why didn't I wear something lighter? But it's too late for that now. I turn up the music, trying to lose myself in the sound and the rush of the wind.

Halfway there, I realize I need gas. Of course. I pull into the station and quickly fill the tank. As I rush inside to pay, I collide with someone—a young woman.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" she snaps, her eyes flashing with annoyance.

"I'm sorry!" I blurt out, wincing as I rush past her. Of all mornings. I pay as quickly as possible, the embarrassment still fresh as I practically run back to my car.

The last leg of the drive feels like a blur. I pull into the college parking lot and sit in my car for a moment. Just a moment. My last few minutes of summer break, of freedom, before I have to step into the world of lectures, lesson plans, and a hundred faces looking at me for answers.

Five minutes pass. Then another.

It's time.

With a deep breath, I grab my bag and step out of the car, walking toward the main entrance. The door feels heavy as I push it open, like it's resisting me. But once I'm inside, something shifts. The familiar hum of the building surrounds me. The nerves are still there, but a strange kind of excitement buzzes beneath it.

We're back at it again, I think. Let's go.

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