Chapter 1: The sun looks just as grey as ever

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I woke up with a gasp, beads of sweat dripped down my forehead as I tried calmed down, catching my breath. Every night it's the same, the dreams never stop. Every night I get so close, I can feel it, see that tiny glimpse light. It was all I'd ever wanted, but every time right as I'm about to reach it I wake up.

I look to my bedside table, where my alarm clock sits. I know it's flashing light to wake me up, but all I see is grey. Beginning my morning routine of feeling bad about my life, complete with chucking myself back on my bed and staring at the ceiling with a sigh, I then progress to the next stage, realising I'm super late for class.

"Dang it, not again!" I huffed, retching the blankets off of me and running towards my closet, cursing my alarm clock on my way.

I grabbed anything I could find, throwing a jacket over the top to protect me from the dull weather we've been having lately. I passed by the mirror, brushing my teeth as I pulled my shoes on. My hair was a tangled mess but I couldn't care less, chucking a beanie over the top of it I sped through the door, picking up a container of yoghurt from the fridge as I left.

I raced to the elevator, I saw it closing and ran, like my life and education depended on it (which it kinda did) but the asshole from 293 just smirked at closed it on me.

"Arrrrrrghhhh" I groaned, pausing to evaluate my choices of waiting or running down the stairs. I eventually stupidly chose to take the stairs, just adding sweat to my already unshowered body. After racing downwards and almost tripping twice I reached the bottom as the jerk was getting off. I felt a sense of gloat but turned to confusion when he smirked at me, almost laughing.

After seeing my reflection in the window, I concluded it was due to the fact that he looked pristine in what I'm sure was expensive clothing whilst I looked like I'd just passed out after running a marathon. I huffed and just kept walking, feeling slight rain tickling my head I began my descent through the streets.

They were as busy as ever, cars speeding down and no taxis to be stopping for the girl who holds nothing but a pen and a carton of yoghurt, no spoon.

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