And that's how I'll choose to remember it.

She stared at the computer screen and pursed her lips.

"Anything?" She turned at the sound of the voice at the doorframe.

"Nah," she said as she logged off. She slapped her hands on her knees and rose from the chair.

"What do you actually like about..." she began, gesturing to the monitor.

She didn't have a ready answer and stopped to think about it. Nothing tangible, she thought with a sigh. She shrugged her shoulders and walked into the foyer to get her backpack. She called over her shoulder while unzipping the bag.

"When is the class tomorrow? I have to figure out when I'm seeing my brother..." She paused, sensing the eyeroll behind her. "I don't know. There's just a good person there. OK?"
***
The desk and chair were your typical metal and wood affairs, pieces that had grown rickety with semesters of use. She assumed students needed cushions for the seat during the academic year, as her lower back always began to ache after only a couple of hours sitting.

The off white walls looked yellow in mid-afternoon light that passed through two filters - first through leafy branches outside, then through dust-speckled windows. A small box fan whirred in the corner as it tried to cool the room, but succeeded in little more than rustling thin white sheets on a creaky metal-framed twin bed. On occasion, a small dust bunny would shift on the old wooden floor. Neither she nor the staff had made an effort to sweep the floor. She wasn't going to be there long enough to be concerned; to them she was a fleeting summer guest who should be too focused on the work to care about dust. She just wore her sandals and it worked out fine.

Despite the discomfort, she was sitting on the desk chair. The Dave Matthews Band CD she'd purchased several hours earlier had been accompanied by a DVD, and she was enjoying the built-in luxuries in the computer she'd purchased for the trip. She'd never had her own DVD player before.

She periodically glanced away from the screen to the open window. The college campus setting was familiar and disjointed at the same time. A few months prior, she'd been one of the older ones, nestled in a townhouse. Now she was re-relegated to the dorms, one of the few students among a group of professionals. When she was busy and didn't have time to think about it, she moved along with energy and enthusiasm. She hadn't been lying to everyone at home, she was loving the experience.

But it was her one day off and she had nothing to do. The other members of her program were catching up on sleep, having lacked the preparation for the experience she'd gained in New Hampshire and Washington.

It was her first opportunity to process this surreal environment, and her first chance to feel alone.

She turned back to Dave and company for a few minutes before jumping at the shrill sound of her cell phone's ring. She quickly glanced at the screen and picked it up immediately after seeing the Boston area code. Must be one of her best friends, she thought with a smile. We'd joked about sharing a brain, but Jesus. She'd managed to pick right up on the loneliness. Thank God someone had been thinking of her - she'd needed to know that.

She pressed a buttom and placed the phone against her ear. Her voice echoed in the small, sparse room.

"Hello?"

She was pleasantly surprised.
***
She clicked send, then checked the message for typos (she knew doing so after the fact was pointless, but always did it anyway). She straightened the Red Sox beanbag figurine next to her monitor and turned off the computer.

"All done," she said, first at the dark screen, then at someone across the room.

She didn't want to admit that she'd been wrong, but she was ready to work on it.

"I'm heading out if you're set."

"Sure, have a good night."

"You too. See you tomorrow." She flicked off the light switch, lifted her backpack to her shoulder and left.