Professor Hidgens(Revamping)

Cup Of Roasted Coffee

As sad as my "kitchen" was, it still had a working fridge, microwave, and stove, which was a win in my book. Although, those amenities made my apartment a hotspot for less fortunate tenants wanting to nuke their Top Ramen before pulling a red-eye study session or whatever they got up to on dreary nights as students of the prestigious, University of Hatchetfield.

Tugging open my rickety fridge, my eyes roved over... nothing. Or what may as well have been nothing. A few Mott's juice boxes, a pack of a few strawberries that were well beyond ready to be thrown out, a half drank jug of milk, a single slice of nondescript cheese product, a partial stick of butter, and a carton that once held a dozen eggs but currently held about three. Pushing aside the milk, I saw a store-bought smoothie in a bottle. I couldn't quite recall when I'd bought it but it hadn't passed its expiration date, so I removed the cap and took a whiff.

I crinkled my nose. The smoothie may not have been expired, but from the smell, I knew why it still sat in the fridge.

"Strawberry, banana, and peach," I read from the label, nearly laughing at the innacuracy.

On paper, the combination sounded delicious, and it probably was, but whatever concoction was within the bottle was far from that appetizing flavor. It smelled more like sour grapes and cheese, which even I wasn't desperate enough to injest.

I screwed the cap back onto the bottle and dropped it into the trash, making my fridge just that much more desolate.

The only other thing within the fridge worth eating were the eggs, so I pulled them out and sat them on the counter, along with the milk jug. It appeared that a depressing omlette was my only option, so I pulled out my singular non-stick skillet that wasn't used nearly as often as it should have been, and set it on front burner of the stove.

I tried my best to spruce up the sad excuse for breakfast, toasting a slice of wheat bread to eat with my flavorless omelette, and putting it all on a plate rather than eating directly from the skillet as I was wont to do. If I squinted, I could almost convince myself that I'd made an enjoyable meal. Still, as I sat on my sagging, lumpy sofa which somehow managed to be too soft and too hard in the same instance, sipping a glass of tap water that tasted more of pipe than of water, I couldn't help thinking the food was rather unfulfilling, leaving much to be desired in the way of flavor, even as it filled my stomach.

I ate quickly, wanting the poorly executed omelette to be gone as soon as possible. Then, after rinsing my plate, I went back to my room and pulled out one of the many outfits that I'd squeezed into my miniscule closet. It was a simple thing, meant more for comfort than for looks. Black leggings with a black, sports bra-esque, crop top. From the small shoe rack at the back of the closet, I snatched the first pair of tennis shoes I saw, which just happened to be a pair of beat up grey high tops.

I exchanged my grey T-shirt for the leggings and top, folding the shirt and laying it on my bed to be worn again that night, and then slipped on a pair of socks and my shoes. The box shaped clock on my bedside table read 7:28 am. I was supposed to arrive in class by 8 that morning, so I figured that if I really rushed, I could stop at Beanie's for something to drink. The smoothie had been a bust and the tap water left my mouth feeling dryer than it had before, so I decided that I'd take the risk of being late over dying of dehydration in the middle of warm ups.

As fast as possible, without leaving my mouth feeling disgusting, I brushed my teeth, catching sight of my hair, still snarled atop my head, in the process. I raked my fingers through it as best I could, busting up the worst of the tangles, and tugging it into a ponytail. It looked barely presentable, but it was enough.

Back at my closet, I pulled out an old Nike sweatshirt that was a faded shade of pink. It wouldn't have been my first choice, but I only needed something to beat the quickly approaching autumn chill until I was safely within the confines of the studio, so I dragged it over my head, ignoring the slightly itchy insides rubbing against my exposed abdomen.