You’re sitting eye-level with the crotch of your freshman creative writing professor. The top button of his 501 jeans is undone. You’re afraid of what he might think if you stand, so you remain seated in an orange fiberglass chair.
You’ve been having a hard time. Halfway through your second semester at State, you’ve begun to think you’re depressed. There’d been acceptance letters to UC Davis and UCLA, but no money. Now all you want is to trade this relentless sunshine for an exchange program in New Hampshire. For that you’ll need a letter of recommendation. For that you’ll need to keep your ass in the orange fiberglass chair.
