The first day of the last year started off without much of a celebration, and I didn't even realize any sort of difference between this and its predecessor, apart from the set of stairs I have to climb now. And with that said, the seventh day, without much need to mention, is kind of boring. Especially chemistry.
I found my mind in a brown paper bag, within.
I walk down the hallway in this newfound floor after I change the tense. For some reason, purple smoke and odor fill the north-west corner, the place that perfectly opposes the laboratory. I chuck grammar and meaning out the window, and then, the alarm screams "Wake up!" in my face.
The air conditioner tries its very best, yet I still wake up to face the Fahrenheit touching the Hawaiian temperature.
This is the XII, people, the ex-aye-eye.