I’ve been skipping too many classes since the issue and have been disseminating a lie across all my profs that I have family drama at home. They love me. I’m their ideal student. They don’t care if I skip. But I’m back now.
It’s 10 AM. My first class is dismissed. I pack my laptop into my bag as students scuttle to their feet and assail the professor at the front of the room with questions. I’ll later join that line and ask for any missed material.
I should apply for a new internship, strike a new foot forward in my life.
Though the last internship begged me to return, I didn’t wish to renew it. It wasn’t my thing to be fetching coffees for this woman called Helen who thought her life preceded mine. She sat around with a humongous stick lodged up her behind and imagined she looked youn
