1 Chapter 1: The first day

September

The shrill cry of my alarm clock resonates in my head as I emerge from my dream in which I met TWICE! I extend my hand to stop it and grab my phone to watch the time. The 4 digits that appear on the screen finish waking me up: 07:50!! Shi... Shoot!" I'm going to be late for my first class of the year! Why didn't that damn alarm clock sound earlier? No time to procrastinate, I jump out of bed grabs the clothes I prepared the day before and runs into the small shower room of my studio. Quick shower, express teeth brushing, 30 seconds dressing, slower lens wear because even after 3 years, I have trouble putting them on, a little Vaseline on the lips, and I'm ready. I run in my kitchenette, take 2 breakfast cereal bars and throw them in my bag, I slip into my sandals, grab my Navigo pass and my keys without forgetting my headphones and head to the subway station. I'm lucky enough to live only 5 minutes from the subway so at 8:10 On I'm in a relatively comfortable train because I have enough room to breathe, everybody who travels by metro can relate. After 5 stops that have never seemed so long, I finally arrive at my destination. It's 8:21 On when I get out of the subway mouth, only 9 minutes before the scariest time of the year.es I'm 20 years old, I'm starting my third year at university yet I'm still extremely nervous at the beginning of the school year. In my defense, I'm entering a new faculty this year and stress, my best friend is more present than ever. I hurry up and head to my amphitheater while congratulating myself for taking the time to visit the campus, so I won't get lost. Arriving late on the first day of school is one of my biggest fears, specially since I'm "the new girl". So, when I walk through the door of this big room at 8:27, I breathe in relief and sit on an empty chair in the middle of the amphitheater.

The last students settle down and I notice that as I thought, they are organized in groups. They all seem happy to be reunited with people they probably haven't seen since the summer holidays began. Watching their interactions, my heart tightens, Gwen should be there with me today... But things have changed. From now on, I'm alone. I turn the ring I wear on the right ring finger trying to get out of the memories that are beginning to invade me. The arrival of the one I suppose is the teacher allows me to return to the present.

She sits down at her desk, turns on her microphone and explains that we will be separated into 3 different classes to optimize our learning. Indeed, the study of languages is more easily done in small numbers.

"Classes will be randomly drawn to make the process faster," she says through her microphone.

I hear complaints from people who do not want to be separated from their friends on either side of the amphitheater. However, far from worrying about it, Ms. Larousse, a rather ironic name knowing that we are studying languages, asks us to hurry because she does not have all day ahead of her. Two minutes later, despite the protests, a line is formed, and we all pick a number in a hat placed on the desk. For this year, I will be in class 3, luck or bad luck? The future will tell. I pick up the corresponding schedule and head for the exit while putting it in my bag. A few steps from the door, I bump into someone or someone bumps into me depending on where we stand.

"Sorry!" We exclaim at the same time.

"I was in such a hurry that I didn't pay attention," the tall redhead girl tells me.

"Don't worry, I wasn't looking where I was going." We're both at fault.

She gives me a little smile and goes to the end of the line. I keep going, put on my headphones and launch my "Relax" playlist. The soft tunes of classical music follow me until I pass the door of my apartment around 9:30. I'm glad to have my afternoon off. I make an omelet and eat a real breakfast. After that, I call Mrs. Bondeaux, my boss, and inform her of my class schedules for the year. We agree that I can go to the library on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursday afternoons and all day on Saturday. Mrs. Blondeaux is a great woman! She is 63 years old, lives just above my apartment and runs a library 500 meters from the residence. She is still very dynamic despite her age; however, taking care of a library on its own is hard. So, when after my many stints at the library this summer, I noticed that at the end of the day she was always very tired; so, I offered to help him. After a long battle with her, I finally agreed that she would pay me a salary. What she doesn't understand is that she helped me more than I ever would. When I arrived in Paris 3 months ago, she warmed up my frozen heart. In addition to that, I have enough money to live my life 3 times without ever running out of anything ...