Hello and welcome to a new Thursday Taster,
the day when awesome writers all over the blogosphere come together to
give you tasty bits of their last fiction. You can find the list here.
"You're on the second floor, the room before the last," the receptionist said.
She gave me key with the number of my room on it and a large envelop.
"Read this carefully, that's the rules of the residence, the way to use the kitchen, the time table at which the door close, and you need to fill up the entrance forms to see if everything is alright in your room and give it back within a week."
"That won't be necessary," my mother said.
"Thank you, I'll bring it back as soon as possible," I said.
The receptionist smiled.
"And here is your card for the entrance, if you need to get in or out when it's locked."
She handed me a plastic card with the logo of the university on it and my room's number B 248.
I couldn't believe there were so many rooms in this building.
I climbed the stairs to the second floor followed by my parents. The stairs smelled like new paint but didn't look new at all, as if they had just tried to hide what was underneath. They were painted in a depressing light blue color and the edge of them was in a darker shade. The corridor was long and dark. I tried to find out the button to turn on the lights but I couldn't. There were only two windows on the side of the stairs but none in the rest of the floor.
"This looks gloomy enough," my mother said.
I had to agree.
"That's because it had been empty all over the summer," my father answered, "once it feels up, you'll forget all about your first impression."
The corridor was long and dark the room number was painted on the doors just above the spying hole. A red number on a dark green door. I wondered who had picked the colors. I reached my room and put the key in the lock, a bit afraid of what I was going to find on the other side. I couldn't let my parents see I was scared. I was going to live on my own for the first time, but I knew I could do it, tons of kids my age had been doing it every years. If they could do it, I could do it too.
The room was gloomy too. An unmade bed with bed sheet folded on the top of it, a desk with curtains fold on the top of it, a sink, a closet, an a small bookshelf.
I walked to the window and opened it to let some fresh air in. The room too smelled like fresh paint.
"So where is your room mate?" My mother asked "Are you sleeping on the same bed?"
I had told her that I was going to have a room mate to make sure that she would leave me alone. Of course it was an individual bedroom there was no such a thing as room mate that I knew of in official university buildings.
"Obviously that's a single room," I said.
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So far, so good.
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