𝐅𝐀𝐖𝐍•ᵉ ʲᵃᵉᵍᵉʳ

6

𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚜𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟿𝚝𝚑

𝐈 𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐆 𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐒 𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐌 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌, 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄
Another Friday, another week survived. Barely. I kick off my shoes and flop onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling like it owes me an explanation for why life is so boring right now.

The clock on my nightstand reads 4:17 p.m. Great. Too early to start getting ready for the party, too late to take a nap, and way too much time to kill before anything remotely interesting happens. I swear, it's like the universe is actively conspiring to waste my time.

I scroll aimlessly through my phone, but even social media feels more dead than usual. It's just the same recycled memes, half-hearted selfies, and a bunch of people bragging about weekend plans I couldn't care less about. Ugh. The one day I actually have something to look forward to, and time decides to crawl like a snail on sedatives. I roll over and bury my face in the pillow, letting out a muffled groan. I'm already bored out of my mind, and I haven't even started pretending to be excited for this party yet.

Reiner's stupid party. Why did I even agree to this again? It's not like I'm dying to trek all the way out to Maria just to watch a bunch of drunk idiots make fools of themselves. Then again, I guess sitting here moping in my dorm isn't exactly the better option. I need to get out, do something, anything to snap out of this slump before I start thinking too hard about how completely mundane my life has been lately. At least the party offers a distraction, even if it's just an excuse to put on some makeup, sip a drink, and pretend I'm having the time of my life for a few hours.

I glance at the clock again. 4:21. Unbelievable. If time keeps dragging like this, I'm going to lose my mind before the party even starts.

I grab the remote and flip on the TV, barely paying attention while I scroll through my phone. My thumb lazily double-taps my way through stories and videos, liking random things without a second thought. One clip catches my eye—it's a old lady baking bread, and for some reason, I actually pause to watch her knead the dough like it's the most riveting thing I've seen all day.

God, my sense of humor really sucks. I'm nineteen years old, bored out of my skull, and here I am, finding comfort in bread videos. The sad part is, this has become my reality. The highlight of my day is watching someone pull a perfectly golden loaf out of the oven like it's the most life-changing achievement ever.

I snort and toss my phone onto the bed. At this rate, I'll be crocheting scarves and sipping herbal tea for fun before I know it.

I lie back on my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what the hell I'm even gonna wear tonight. Reiner's party is supposed to be legendary or whatever, so I can't just show up looking basic. But do I go full-on slutty or play it safe because it's, like, freezing outside? It's definitely getting colder, but does that mean I'm supposed to dress like a grandma? I mean, no thanks.

Part of me is really feeling that black mini-skirt I bought last month. It's super tight and basically one shimmy away from a wardrobe malfunction, but hey, if you've got it, flaunt it, right? Plus, pair it with those platform boots, and I'd be turning heads all night. But then I think about actually standing outside in that thing and... yikes! I can already feel my teeth chattering just picturing it.