**Author’s Note:** *This is chapter 1 of a long story. Perhaps a novel. Please let em know what you think in the comments.*
I leaned back across the center of the low bed. The room was furnished in ‘late teenager,’ with a cheap dorm room mattress on a barracks frame, and other durable furniture. The walls were brick, painted a dull cream color that made it look like someone smoked here.
I made sure the little laptop lid was closed while she changed. The last thing I wanted was for this to be recorded. Or worse, broadcast. This could be all over the internet in a heartbeat, and I would never teach again.
There were no books on her side of the room that I could see except for the requisite texts of a college freshman. English (my class), Algebra II, History of Colonial America, and the like. The supplementary texts were piled in a corner, forgotten. This disappointed me, though I wasn’t surprised. Islands of clothes and underwear from yesterday, today, and who knew when else we’re on the floor, which was also dotted by DVD rental cases from the machine downstairs.
*What a slob*, I thought.