Professor Hidgens(Revamping)

Cup Of Roasted Coffee

2022 A/N: So I kinda just jumped right into editing this without even reading over it so I have no idea what's bouta go down fr. I just know it's gonna cause me a headache by the end of it. Like off the bat, I started this off with her waking up from a "strange dream which is already drifting from my mind." Like that's such a boring, dry, whitebread, tasteless, watery start to a story and not even a good hook but I digress. Also the whole thing is in the present tense which I detest. I'm gonna try and fix it while staying sort of true to what I already wrote, so much to my chargrin, she's waking up ig but you better believe she just did and isn't currently waking up cause no ma'am. We'll see how this goes T-T

My eyes snapped open, heart threatening to pound right out of my chest. I didn't bother hiding my annoyance with whichever person at Apple headquarters had cooked up the jolting alarm that was echoing against the brick walls of my tiny bedroom. The sound served its purpose well, however, as there was no way that I would be finding sleep again now that I'd been wrenched from my dreams by the blaring sound.

I picked up my phone from my night table, fighting the urge to glare at it as I clicked the "stop" button, silencing the infernal screeching before it could annoy me farther. The following silence felt like heavenly peace, and I welcomed it, dragging my hands down my face, rubbing sleep from my eyes.

It felt as though I'd pressed my feet onto a sheet of ice when I finally flipped back my duvet and clambered out of bed. Times like that made me wish that I was able to sleep with socks on, as it would make mornings infinitely more comfortable. As it were, I tried to cross the small stretch of hardwood in a hop, a skip, and a jump, so as to step onto the mat in my bathroom. I fumbled for the lightswitch in the dark room, squeezing my eyes shut as the bright, fluorescent light flickered into glaring life.

The small room consisted of a tiny shower, a vessel sink stained from the campus's ridiculously hard water, and a toilet with a suspicious dark mark in the bowl which had been there when I moved in and refused to leave no matter how hard I scrubbed it. Above the sink was a tiny mirror so old and cheap that my reflection was peppered with dark marks where the reflective surface had peeled away, not that there would have been much to see anyway.

I wore a baggy grey T-shirt that had been washed quite a few too many times, so that the collar had lost any definition it once had, sagging down to expose my left shoulder. The shirt was wrinkled and stained in more places than I could count, and had long ago been resigned from regular use, to spend the rest of its days as my nightgown. My hair was a monstrous tangle atop my head where I'd slept on it, rolling around in bed until it was unrecognizable. A pale crust had formed at the corner of my mouth where drool had once fell, stayed and dried, and my eyes held that red "just-barely-awake" look which reflected how I felt better than the mirror ever could.

As I stretched my arms above my head, letting out one of those involuntary screeches that only happens when you stretch early in the morning, I thought idly that I looked as though I'd gotten into a particularly nasty fight; and lost.

When I entered the bathroom, it had been with the intention of taking a shower. As I stared at myself, however, I recalled that my first class that morning was dance. I knew that I would only have to shower again afterwards, so I decided that, rather than waste water, I would cook myself some breakfast. It was a rare occurence that I ate anything in the mornings, which Emma constantly berated me about, but I never felt that I had the time.

I left the tiny, cold room, walked through my bedroom and into the living area. I'd lived in the same crappy on campus appartment for a month, and with scarcely any furniture to speak of, it was long enough for me to know the layout forwards and backwards, even with the lights off and the curtains drawn. I stretched yet again, managing to hold in my screeching this time, and lumbered into the kitchenette as tiny as the rest of the place, boasting a full two feet of counter space and three cabinets in the whole of the little corner.