Dance to This [kth]

f o u r

ミ★
four
❝late appearance❞
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I am barely conscious when I hear a faint, constant noise. I feel as though I have been gone and thoughtless for weeks, but in reality it only takes me a few moments to gather where I am at the moment— my bed.

"Shut it off," Hana groans from across the room.

My body feels twice its weight when I attempt to roll over. I cannot see correctly when I open my eyes; the room is still swirling and I have some unwanted feeling of nausea growing in the pit of my stomach. That faint noise from earlier is now blaring in my ears and emitting from beside my bed. It's my alarm.

I fumble for my phone with influenced vision. When I finally am able to roll over, the light streaming in from one askew blind is enough to encourage my headache.

What a mistake last night was. I am so embarrassed that I don't want to see anyone ever again. A boy whom I have only known for a week had to carry me home; another boy had to deal with my sloppy, inexperienced kisses. The taste in my mouth reminds me of everything. I'm too naive and foolish to be drunk ever again.

I let out a whine at my memories. I feel so sheepish that I don't want to move. My breathing is heavy in an attempt to calm my headache down, and it's then that I shield my eyes from the sunlight to check the time— 7:58AM.

"Oh no," I panic in a drunken and tiresome whisper.

My mind isn't in correlation with my body as I try to get up from my bed quickly. I'm going to be late for my 8AM Photography class.

It's obvious that I'm still experiencing the aftermath of all the alcohol I drank. I can't comprehend the ideals of inertia, but somehow I'm able to break from my state of pure incompetence as I pull myself up from a sleeping position. My dorm room is sideways when I stand and I am grabbing for my desk to steady myself.

I'm fighting the urge to vomit with a scowl and it takes me longer than necessary to get dressed. In a matter of minutes, I have splashed water on my face and lazily brushed my teeth. I'm walking much too slow for the rush that I'm in.

The art building's unique perks— the creaking doors, dust filled air and paint smell— are not as charming when you feel absolutely disgusting. It's 8:10AM when I approach the classroom door. It's closed, but through the small window I peek a look inside the room: Professor Kim is lecturing.

I have never been late to a class in my life. It's too early in the semester to be absent, but given that I'm more afraid to open the door than to miss the class, an absence is very tempting at the moment.