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Darts and Laurels

A sense of nostalgia washes over you as you flip through your course syllabus. Seeing each old entry for past classes is like a punch to the gut. You flashback to artificial laughs at your professor’s corny puns. They weren’t quite comedy gold but more of a bland maize color. Your mind is called back to the material you wished you would be tested on again but never will be. You shed a single tear. The salty drop of sadness blots and distorts the ink, warping the rules you had been so intimidated by at the beginning of the semester.

You started Homecoming weekend by partying Friday night. It extended into Saturday morning, but the afternoon has already come calling. The sounds of tailgating and Homecoming weekend are beating down your door and begging to be let it in. These festivities wait for no Gator — they could not care less for your sleeping habits. You grumble to yourself and bunker your head under your pillow, but the fluffy shield doesn’t do much to dampen the subwoofers, excited yelling and the scent of hot dogs and hamburgers wafting through the window. You descend the stairs to investigate.

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