Lighter

t w e n t y - f i v e

she says she can't feel her face,
right now i can't feel my h e a r t . . .

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Having a class at eight o'clock in the morning is probably every college student's personal incubus, and normally, I wouldn't put myself through that kind of torture. Unfortunately, being a year away from graduating means it's more difficult for me to take classes at a preferable time. I just have to suck it up and get done what needs to be done, regardless if it's at the crack of dawn or way too late at night.

Economics on a Friday morning was certainly a unique battle to overcome that I was faced with every week. At the weekly gathering, you'd find me in the lecture hall with a coffee on my desk, no makeup on my face, and wearing an outfit somewhere along the lines of being borderline acceptable to leave the house in. It wasn't necessarily a class I wanted to take, nor enjoyed in the slightest, but it was a requirement with my major. Semi-useless general education classes would be the death of me.

So on a particular Friday just a couple of weeks later, I was nodding off in said Economics class, barely making it through the hour and fifteen minutes. Just as my head started to tip backward, I jolted awake, alarming the two people I was sitting in between. Although I wasn't sure if they were truly "alarmed" anymore since I'd been doing it all morning.

My coffee was empty, my mind was blank, and I couldn't retain a single word my professor was saying. The only remotely uplifting thing I was thinking about was the fact that I'd only have this class for about another month or so, and then I'd be on summer vacation. It felt like that was eons away at this point.

The girl seated to my right kindly nudged my arm when I started to doze off again, and sent me an innocent smile as I looked over to thank her with a nod. At the sound of my professor announcing that the lecture was over and he'd see us next week, I got a burst of energy. I threw my notebook that had some careless scribbles on the past two pages into my bag, along with my pen and my phone. After slipping into my jacket, I was out the door with the rest of the class.

Fresh, morning air hit me when I got to the parking lot, reminding me how bipolar this time of year was. At the start of the day, you needed a jacket to go outside. By noon, you'd be sweating your ass off. Thankfully it didn't reach the peak temperature yet since it was only a little after nine o'clock.

Having nothing better to do with my time on a Friday in which practically everyone I knew was either at work or school, I decided to visit Cheyenne at the mall. She had the opening shift for the day and wouldn't be done until dinner time. Considering it was the start of the weekend, I knew she'd be happy to see a friendly face. You wouldn't think people could get so hostile over makeup, but according to the horror stories I hear from Cheyenne, they do.

Needless to say, I heard the grateful sigh she unleashed from across the room when she noticed me walking into the store twenty minutes later.

"Oh my God, you are the best friend ever," she nearly cried as she pranced over to me, wrapping me in a quick hug. "How did you know I was having a rough morning?"

"It's literally not even ten o'clock," I pointed out.

Her thick brows raised to give me an expectant look, their natural brunette shade more prominent now with her freshly bleached roots she'd gotten done just the other day. "Sav, these people don't rest. I swear, they're all professionals at ruining lives," she muttered and glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "Between these needy little bitches that shop here who think they know more than me and my mediocre manager who somehow always puts her responsibilities on me, I'm surprised I haven't checked into the cuckoo house yet."