It was midnight and even after countless hours in the library, it was still drizzling. The sidewalks were empty and the road was blissfully silent except for one car in the distance rushing towards my direction. I crossed the road usually filled with impatient drivers who refused to yield for college students at the crosswalk. Day time, the dangers were from being nearly run over at the crosswalk. After ten, it was being run over by a random car going forty miles over the speed limit.
From the windows above the door, I could tell the lights of the room were off. Slowly, I turned the key and hefted open the heavy door. Both roommates were sleeping. My scuffed, black leather boots squeaked against the wooden floor reminding me of Charles Unwin's forever squeaking shoes.
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