"A man can stand anything except a succession of ordinary days."
-Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Day 1
She takes in a deep breath of warm Raft College air and expels it as if she is expelling a part of herself. The part, in particular, that is capable of coherent thought. The day is only halfway over, but she is already beat.
She had known that college was going to be a challenge. She had looked forward to that after the boring routine of high school, and she continues to hold some small particle of that enthusiasm. But it is still exhausting trying to get all the new information that has been shoved her way sorted into a proper arrangement.
The rest of the day doesn't look any more promising, but for the moment at least she has a full hour to rest and forget about it all.
She is walking toward one of the many open areas on the Raft grounds, one that she had noticed during the short tour of the university. It is a bit out of the way and seemed to attract fewer students than other spots around the campus, two qualities that she finds very palatable.
A concrete walkway winds its way up to the top of the small hill she is approaching. Carved concrete tables and benches dot the tiled area. She chooses one of the tables along the edge and notices almost immediately upon sitting down that it is covered with sticky sap from the tree sitting alongside. After a bit of searching, she finds a spot that is relatively sap-free and feels cheered by the fact that the movie theater floor-like quality will almost certainly keep other people from trying to join her.
Not that she doesn't want people to join her.
No, scratch that. She doesn't want people to join her. With few exceptions, she doesn't like other people overmuch.
And she needs her solitude right now, anyway. An hour to herself away from lecturing professors and questioning students and the noise and the bustle.
She pulls a book from her satchel, cracks it open, and starts reading.
Day 5
As she approaches what is quickly becoming her regular spot, she pulls a small spray bottle of surface cleaner and a wad of napkins from her pocket. A few minutes of scrubbing has her seat and the section of table right in front of her completely cleared of treesap and ready for an hour of quiet, uninterrupted relaxation.
For the first half hour, she doodles idly on a piece of scrap paper, letting her mind wander where it will. The second half hour is spent reading the first chapter of her Western Civilization textbook.
The free period goes just as well as it has the entire week, leaving her refreshed and ready for another round of classes. She wonders if it would work as well even on days she doesn't have class and considers coming down for the weekend just to keep up the routine.
Day 8
She looks up from her books, startled when someone sits across the table from her.
It is a boy approximately her own age, presumably only just stepping into manhood. He sets his book bag on the ground next to the stone bench, opens a textbook, and starts reading.
The sense of invasion comes as a shock to her. She has only been sitting at this table for a week, after all. And it's a free campus. He can sit wherever he wants, even if it happens to be right across from her. But for some reason it still grates against her nerves that he would simply sit down without even asking if the seat was taken.
