Breanne entered the elevator and considered the buttons. She reached for the five and then changed her mind and pressed the three. It only took a few seconds to reach her destination, where she knocked.
Michelle, Breanne’s friend and fellow graduate student, stuck a head adorned with two long, strawberry-blonde braids, out the door. “What's up, Bree? Did you need anything?”
Do I ever, and you won't believe it, Breanne thought, smirking on the inside. “Yes. I need to talk. Do you have a few minutes?”
“Sure. C'mon in.”
Breanne walked into Michelle's room, taking in the fabric her friend had hung on the walls, all dotted with music notes. Like most dorm rooms, this one had a little bed and a computer desk with a chair. But because Michelle, like Breanne, was an RA, she had a room to herse
