I pass one of my professors without even acknowledging him, I didn’t see him walking towards me.
“Good morning,” I hear him say, I walk past him. It takes a moment to register. The brain fog slows everything down to a crawl.
“Good morning,” I return, turning around to see him looking at me. He knows about the headaches, I flunked a test and explained it wasn’t me, it was the headaches. He was pretty understanding about it, his sister gets migraines. I still feel like a failure, I wanted to do well in his class, for him.
His eyes sweep me once. I take a step forward towards him. “You look gloomy,” he comments.
“What,” I say and I look down at myself. Black jeans, nearly black oversized sweatshirt, the only bit of color on my person is my faded light blue chucks. Despite being early in the morning, my hair has the tell tale signs of my hands being dragged through it and it’s damp from the rain. It’s not it’s bright chestnut brown with big curls but dampened down, almost black from the rain. The curls pulled straight from my fingers. I wonder what my face looks like. I must have the hollow look from the headache. The ancient lighting in the building must be casting a wicked shadow on my face. I probably look terrifying, at least gloomy. “Um, I have a headache already this morning,” I gesture vaguely around my head.
“Oh sorry,” he mutters.
“I’ll be in class,” I tell him, “I’ll feel better,” I hope. I plan on taking a Vicodin later if I don’t feel any better, I’ll feel something then, that’s for sure.
“I hope you do,” he gives me a small smile.
I see why the other girls have a crush on him.
I return a broken hopeful smile.
“See you then,” he adds before ducking into his office and I’m on my way to class.