I'm sure you've heard of Skype. It's a free, instant-messaging program, allowing voice and webcam chat with people the world over. I've been using it to keep track of old friends: we all went off to college a fortnight ago. Last week I was talking to Annie, a girl I used to go to school with. We'd both just moved into our flats, we were both single and the first semester hadn't yet begun - so we found ourselves with plenty of time to chat. Usually, we'd Skype at least once a day. The stuff we talked about isn't hugely interesting: she'd bought new headphones, I had watched The Princess' Bride for the first time. It was just nice to have some familiar company amidst a time of such great upheaval, you know?
Anyway, it was a Tuesday morning. I'd been out clubbing the previous night, and was pretty groggy and hungover, but I was awoken by the plaintive buzzing of a Skype call. Cursing the fact that I'd left my laptop on and massaging my temples, I stumbled out of bed.
“Hnngh... Hello?”
My bleary-eyes struggled to focus on the painfully-bright monitor before me. Annie was, of course, dressed, made-up and grinning, sporting her new headphones. She gave a cheery wave, to which I responded with a half-smile.
“Well aren't you the life of the party this morning?” she teased.
“You should've seen me last night. My dance moves put the whole club to shame.”
“Big-Fish-Little-Fish doesn't impress anyone. Hey, don't you have an introduction meeting with your tutor today?”
I glanced at my calendar, but the ink refused to stop squirming on the page. I assumed she was right, but even the small amount of sunlight that seeped into my gloomy domain, under the curtains, was eye-watering. (Read more...)