Allison is doing sit ups. I can't even procrastinate productively.
Instead, I write.
Allison is on the other end of my computer screen. I'm watching her get things done.
My room smells like cigarettes. That's my observation.
And now I'm observing Allison brush her teeth.
Finals. Finals.
It's so...permanent. The FINAL grade of your semester. This is it.
It's almost like death.
Also, omnipresent.
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