I was a professional procrastinator in all things. I couldn’t bear it then and suggested that we push off any sad or mushy conversations to the very last minute. No matter how many times Ashley tried to broach the subject of her leaving this summer, I would always turn my head and plug my ears. Forget that I would be living without my sister and best friend for the first time in seventeen years. Thank goodness for these moments when we could laugh, when we could forget what was going to happen in a few hours. I helped her put the sheets on her loft bed (not an easy task, might I add) and we giggled as her corner boinked off and smacked her in the nose. Apparently they were redoing the floors and ran out of budget/time to put in new carpets for this year. The cement floor was not helping in my sister’s attempt to make the room prison-chic. Right now it reminded me of a glorified prison cell with a set of worn-down loft beds and a free-standing sink in the corner. We slowly unpacked all my sister’s belongings in her small, dingy dorm room, and I wondered how it would ever feel homey. I’d never seen so much chevron in my life.
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