She’s not alone. A crouching silhouette is sleeping in the armchair by the bed. At first she thinks it is Peter but instantly she corrects herself. ...he smell is not correct, it is her mother’s. “The smell?” she thinks. How come she can identify her mother by her smell? But the idea sticks in: the menthol from the cigarettes she smokes, the cheap perfume, the juniper wood of the gin she drinks; it is clearly her mother. She sniffs to be sure but the reassuring smell is replaced by something much. . yeah I knew something was up. "Thank God." I say as I discover that my phone screen isn't cracked. My class starts at 9:00. I went to bed at 2:00, took me 30 minutes of tossing and turning to go to sleep, woke up at 5:30, went BACK to sleep, and now here I am realizing that it is 9:00— oh shit... IT'S 9:00! WHY THE FUCK DID MY MOM NOT CHECK UP ON ME!!!? SHE USUALLY DOES THAT!!! Whatever! I gotta do the essentials: brush my teeth, wash my face, put on deodorant, make my hair look less. More

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