What We Are

12/room

-MIRIAM-

Our first day of Orientation week is over. I sit on the edge of my bed, and smile down at my covers. The pretty pink flowers and leaves remind me of Sevta.

I am drying my hair with the towel, when Zahra walks in. Her hair is up in a towel as well, and she lets it down to brush it. It's much longer than I thought (which is long), her grey long-sleeved shirt barely covering lacy black underwear.

Something about her makes me feel so insecure, I don't know why.

I slide under the covers, pulling a fuzzy beige blanket over the flowers. It's cooler tonight, and I'm wearing a delicate nightdress. Next to her I feel like a little girl.

Miriam. Stop.

She glances at me before getting on her bed. Even her hair is gorgeous, long and almost black/dark brown. 

Then she pulls out a copy of She Walks in Beauty: A Woman's Journey Through Poems.

And I achingly wish that we could be friends and talk or something because she is reading poetry and the poems were selected by Caroline Kennedy and she has the confidence to freaking wear lacy black panties. (Such a Bubba word).

And then I remember no Miriam, you can't be friends.

So I pull out my copy of Persuasion, worn at the edges, the cover falling off, because right now I don't have the strength to look cultured and well read; I just need comfort/familiarity/home.

So we read in silence for a while, the light still on, the window open, letting in night air and car sounds and people actually talking.

The halls are quite busy, it's only ten thirty.

I shift my feet beneath the covers, they're hot now.

Anne is in Bath and Mrs Smith is telling her about how terrible Mr Elliot is. Not the most interesting/ romantic part (something my life is sorely lacking in), I am distracted.

Maybe I should try and find Ella, the girl I met at Orientation, the one at the nursing stand.

She isn't studying nursing, but her boyfriend's sister is (I was a bit confused with the relations at first) and she was really nice. She's getting her degree in English Lit.

She said she was Room 119.

The more I lay in bed, the less I am convinced it would be a good idea to leave, so I settle on inspecting the room.

Just like Mia in If I Stay (terrible reference yes, but Chava was text-raving about it this morning), I believe the world can be separated into two groups for nearly everything.

My side of the room is very decidedly Beauxbatons aesthetics, while Zahra's is more Ravenclaw.

She has deep bluish turquoise sheets, and an Indian style blanket- a swirl of blue and gold and white and design.

She has piles of books around her bed already, and along with the paintings and pictures on the walls she has mournful romantic poetry handwritten/typed/edited onto pictures on her walls. She has excerpts from famous books and movies and charcoal sketches.

I look at my side, the dream-catchers and pretty flower and lace paintings. The four pillows and the faerie lights. We've been here a week, so we've had time to make each side of the room our own.

Then I see her staring at me, and she sort of smiles/relaxes her normally poker face and says "I love Persuasion."

//

OHMYGOSH MY MOM GOT THESE TISSUES THAT ARE STRAWBERRY SCENTED AND I CAN SMELL IT FROM ACROSS THE ROOM

ik ik filler chapter but GREAT THINGS ARE HAPPENING