Paper Hearts [Brallon-ish]

218 days

This is not a love story.

Actually, it is a love story. No it's not. It's a partial love story that doesn't end with a stereotypical love story ending where the protagonist gets the enticing and gorgeous other protagonist, because those are unrealistic takes on actual events that end with tears and broken hearts.

Although, love stories always start off with a bang louder than thunder, and bus rides are incredibly boring. Not that buses were boring, but it was absolutely pouring outside and you couldn't see anything through the window, which in turn was boring.

Some people were sitting with their friends or at least reading a book, but I'd packed nothing in my carry-on because I was sure that there'd be enough people on the same ride as me that left their things in the back too and we'd strike up a conversation about a common interest and I'd have at least one person I knew walking around campus.

I like to set my expectations high.

Outside was just rain. There wasn't any other word for it other than that because when you can't see 4 feet out the window, it's a problem. But I guess it rained a lot in the area, and was extremely hot the rest of the days, something I would have to get used to but probably wouldn't.

All around me were pairs of two or a bunch more kids discussing how great their summer was or what Seacoast would be like.

From what I'd seen on the website, Seacoast was a dead end school full of alcohol and pointless parties at 2am, but it did have some decent classes and a nice cluster of dorms. That was probably the best part about it. Although, it did bug me that the location of Seacoast wasn't even close to the sea, or any coast for that matter; The first lie of many they had to offer.

The bus felt like a hearse, and the stairs I had to drag my boxes of belongings up was like walking down the aisle to the coffin at the end. And in this situation, the room I had to share was probably going to be the coffin considering I'd probably die in there from boredom or exhaustion from overloading with essays and worksheets.

The first thing I'd noticed was the door would creak if it was opened to a certain degree. And the doormat was just a bunch of layered paper towels stuck and dried together from years worth of dirt, mud, and water.

Second, was the empty space to my left where the couch and coffee table was supposed to be. The cushions were replaced with 2 lawn chairs and a wooden love seat swing that probably wasn't supposed to be up here, but it was free so I couldn't complain.

The kitchen to my right wasn't a complete disaster by first impression. The fridge was a normal size and there was still a microwave placed between a few cabinets and a stovetop built underneath it. The only problem was the table with 3 1/2 legs held up evenly by 4 Harry Potter books and another book with the spine facing the opposite wall. 

Then a couple long steps ahead and to the left a little bit was a short hallway leading to 4 rooms, all directly in front of each other. I could only hope there were locks on the doors.

Either I was too quiet or my roommate was deaf, because nobody came out to greet me. I wasn't complaining of course, because then I get first dibs on whichever room turns out to be the biggest.

Footstep measurements proved that the left room was larger by 1 shoe, yet it was right next to the washing machine on the other side of the wall. Bigger room > next to the washing machine.

Plus the only window had curtains, which the room across from me didn't have. What the room across from me did have, however, was a closet with a mirror on the door.