The stairs outside the Wardroom. Fabulous first year band (New Provindence) playing. Blissfully buzzed. Sexy boots. Too much momentum. Ottawa friends have arrived. Kevin, falling backwards, with me landing on top of him.
9:30 am. I'm lying in my bed. Warm, fuzzy sheets. Crisp sunlight filtering in through the window. Face planted in the pillow. Alarm singing. Already late for rehearsal.
The Library basement. Low sun shines in my face. Books open, Word document empty. Facebook getting a workout. Essay dread in my mind.
Back in bed, on top of Kevin. Four people on one bed. Ottawa love fest. Can't stop laughing.
After dinner, in Davis's room. Venting. Yelling. Pacing. NOT crying. Angry. Not so angry. Kevin and Davis sitting in front of me. "Gold," says Kevin. More yelling. Face flushed, head spinning. So much love, exactly what I need. Can't spell improv without love.
6. 7:30 pm, in my room. So much essay to write. Long night ahead. Ignoring the music pumping next door. Who the fuck needs Valentine's Day.