One Word Prompts

Exhausted - Parallel Troubles

She slumped into her chair, her bag dropping to the ground beside her. She leaned back, her eyes closing.

He collapsed onto the bed, a deep sigh escaping his lips. He stared up at the ceiling, his mind going blank.

Such a long day.

Who would have thought that grad school would be hard? she joked to herself. Three hours of class every day, twenty hours of TA work every week, countless hours of homework and independent research always.

Who would have thought a full-time job would be hard? Eight to five: work. Two-hour commute and it was already seven by the time he got home. An hour in the grocery store, longer if it was a Friday, longer still if it was between six and eight o'clock. Half that to make dinner. An hour of TV. Bed before midnight, so he could get up before dawn to do it all again.

What was free time?

She opened an eye a slit, looking with trepidation at her computer. She should really start that homework. In theory, if she finished it, she could play something afterwards. She chuckled bitterly at the idea.

He turned his head to the kitchen. He really aught to start dinner. Was it spaghetti or curry for dinner tonight? Maybe he'd just make ramen. Maybe he'd turn the TV on and listen to his soaps while he cooked.

Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn't eaten since breakfast. Food on campus was too expensive to eat every day. Her housemate reminding her to pack a lunch the night before rang through her head. Once again, she wished she'd listened.

If she worked, and worked a job that paid for more than just tuition and housing in this godforsaken town, she could buy lunch. She often thought these things. If she worked, she could afford nice things and good food.

It was these moments that she questioned her life choices. What was she going to do with this degree? How much easier would things have been if she'd just jumped into the work force? A nice job where she didn't have to bring work home. Where the weekends could be hers.

He pushed himself off the bed. Once again, he wondered if he'd made the right choices. He could have done grad school. There had been a couple professors who had encouraged him to apply. He had vision and a thirst for knowledge.

He didn't have the money, but he hadn't had the money for undergrad, between student aid and parent loans he managed that. And supposedly, they paid you to do grad school. Teaching assistants, research assistants, he could have done it.

And just think of all the free time. A handful of hours of class each day? Afternoon lectures?

Clearly, that was the better life path.

She sat up and shook her computer awake. If she couldn't rest, neither could it. She flipped open her email. Her inbox was full of questions from students and spam from the school and reminders about assignments and messages about her student loans and updates from the TA union. She took a deep breath and deleted most of them without opening them, until it was just the things that required a response.

He walked into the kitchen and sighed. He'd forgotten the state he'd left it in yesterday. Dishes were piled high on the counter, pots and pans filled the sink, a layer of grease covered the stove, something brown stained the cabinet door. It wasn't the result of a single night of neglect, but many. He rolled up his sleeves. He couldn't cook in this.

Several hours later, her work load wrangled back into the realm of reasonable, she lay on her bed. She knew she should sleep.

Kitchen cleaned, food cooked and then eaten, kitchen cleaned again, he sat on his couch, remote in hand. It was time for bed.

But she had yet to take time for herself today.

He really hadn't relaxed at all.

How much would it hurt to watch an episode of anime?

That episode he'd listened to while cooking, it had ended on a cliffhanger. Watching just the next one would be okay, surely?

But how many hours of sleep had she averaged this week, she wondered.

Six?

Five was possible.

But then, last week, it was four wasn't it?

Once again, she made a mental note to do better. Her health was important. To go to bed earlier.

To sleep more.

He couldn't work if he got sick because he hadn't slept enough.

School work was only made more miserable by illness.

And there was so much work to be done.

But mental health was important too, she reasoned.

It was important to take time for one's self.

Surely, one episode would be fine.

Her past history would suggest there would be another after that.

And another after that.

But this time...

...Maybe...

...this time would be different.