I clench my fists as the conditioned air claws its way into my lungs. I cough. If i could be anywhere but here, id be in bed. Eyelids heavy, too caked with sleep to be open. Staring blank faced at the tutor I wonder if he knows I’m not listening. Bright faces fueled with coffee surround me. Then there are some looking like i feel. He yammers away monotonously as i slip in and out of interest, my brain feeling like those eggs i wanted for breakfast. Scrambled. Now he tells us to write. Fifteen minutes. I gaze through the fuzzy space between my eyelids at the blank page for 10 minutes before i even pick up a pen. Another cough scratches it way out. I can’t even read the word i picked to write about. The clock doesn't tick; no second hand. Maybe it’s an H, or a G. The air conditioner hums. Footsteps in the distance, floating voices and girlish laughter distract me. Pens scratching. Typing. Why so studious at this time in the morning? The white noise surrounds me like an urban lullaby. And somehow I’m still awake.