Three weeks back at college and I was failing at normal.
Not academically — my grades were fine, my attendance was fine, I showed up and took notes and contributed to seminar discussions like a person who was present and engaged. On paper I was doing great.
Inside my head I was in Seattle approximately eighty percent of the time.
"You're doing it again," Priya said.
I looked up from my laptop. My roommate was sitting cross-legged on her bed, painting her nails with the focused expression she reserved for delicate tasks and judging me.
"Doing what?"
"The thing where you're physically in this room but actually somewhere else entirely." She blew on her fingers. "Or someone else, maybe."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You've read the same page of that article for twenty min
