~Meetings~

I hate a Monday.

I hate waking up early, feeling the icy air on my face.

I lift my scarf up over my nose, my hands in my pocket, my headphones in my ears.

I walk to the train station, my share at 5:45, but he's always late, so I sit down with a brioche from the bar next to the station. An old place, certainly not the cleanest, where the friendliness is not at home. Next to the bar a disused Hotel, abandoned with rubble on the garden.

It's unsettling, not so much because it's bound to collapse sooner or later, if it hurts anyone, but because of its gloomy air. A great scenario for a horror movie, with a ghost child.

I smile, at 5:30 in the morning I have nothing better to think about?

I have an exam today and I don't know anything, Medical Statistics I can't stand her...

I don't know what I thought I'd get out of doing nursing. I listened to Mother:

"State work is a guarantee". My passion is plants, their healing effects, I would have chosen herbal medicine, but it was too far away. I was destined to commute and be as tight as a sardine on a train along with other 50 students, fighting for a seat and being crushed in the crowd, smelling the pungent scent of someone who jumped the shower when he woke up.

Ah mom... if I don't take at least 18, he'll kill me...