Rotterdam – Delft

Sundaynight. She was starting to get used to the sunday ritual of commuting back to her studenthouse. The bored look in the train, the feeling of independence on the tram and a undefinable scent of adventure on the walk home. Her first two financial aid payments were used entirely on a new wardrobe. Her home-home clothes were so preppy and high schooly. She still wore them over the weekend, if only not to have to listen to her dad and brother joke. But for the trip home she had changed back into her student uniform. Her new glasses with the large, round frame, the baggy T-shirt printed with an ironic quote and a crudely cut, bleached pair of jeans. Very eighties. Her backpack was full of clean laundry, something she was very pleased her mother hadn’t mentioned, half a loaf of bread and a can of tomato soup she had pillaged from home. Early class tomorrow. She took a savouring breath. She loved the student life.