Clad in possibly the most hideous home wear, sporting uncombed hair and an old pair of spectacles perched on the middle of my nose (the way I like to wear ’em to prevent dark marks from forming at my nose bridge), I ensconce myself in my thinking chair and let out a sigh. Studying for papers is a bitch, especially when the official date is drawing close.
Just then, a distinct hollow echo of knuckles knocking against my wooden door can be heard. Mummy stands up from her chair, volunteering to open the door.
I turn my head into the direction and squint hard. Having stared at my computer screen for nearly six hours now, everything else seems like a blurry motion to me.
A lanky figure, bright yellow tee. A delivery man? Did I buy anything that require such a delivery service? No, not that I can recall… Why did mummy let him into our house anyway?!
And as the man enters, I regain myself and my sight slowly sharpen again.
K is in my house! Excitement swallows me as I lift myself from my thinking chair and skip towards him. I look at myself in the big mirror intuitively (I like to make sure I look presentable) and holy! Do I look bad!
I mean – green angry bird tee, pink shorts w haphazardly frayed lace hems hanging loosely at my hips at an unflattering length of mid-thigh kind of bad. Like, really bad.
Yeahhh, so K just had to pick out my shorts to comment on. I bury my face in my hands, embarrassed by my disastrous self. It is supposed to be a stay-home day! I am not meant to be seen!
Still, we hug.