Margaret sat in class, her eyes continually wandering from the lecturing professor up to the clock behind his head, the minutes dragging by slowly and painfully. It was her last class before finals, before the end of the fall semester, and unlike most of her other professors that ended the day early, Professor Murphy continued to drone on monotonously. He was talking about Equus, a play she had only skimmed through and read the summary online, figuring she'd get all the info she needed from today's lecture. But Margaret couldn't focus enough to even attempt to take notes, her hand fidgeted with her pen, spinning it quietly between her slender fingers as she watched the time crawl.
Margaret was small in stature, and was the kind of woman who couldn't gain weight if she tried (and she had, many times). Her thin frame was straight-waisted and petite, but she was relatively fit, keeping her from appearing bony. Lithe muscles lined her arms and legs, giving her somewhat of an athletic appearance despite doing much in the way of exercise in her free time. Her job in the back room of the college book store, lifting boxes and sorting books, kept her in decent shape; her dark brown hair often pulled into a messy pony to keep it out of her face as she hoisted boxes onto a sorting table. It was a hairstyle she chose often, including today, as she absentmindedly dropped her pen and coiled the end of her ponytail around her finger.
She glanced out of the window, catching her reflection in the surface of it, her narrow, sleek face looking back at her. Margaret never really considered herself pretty, even though she had often been told otherwise, thinking herself as being astoundingly average looking. She believed her nose was too long, too thin, her brown eyes much too large for her small face, her ears stuck out to the sides too far, and her mouth was too wide when she smiled, showing off her large teeth. But it was these very traits that made her look unique, distinct, and, in the opinion of many of her friends and former partners, incredibly beautiful.
The first few snowflakes of the season had begun to gently float down outside, catching the young woman's attention, causing her to look past her reflection. The cold, grey sky had opened up, releasing a small flurry of snow that she watched through the classroom window. There was something magical about the first snow, even as an adult, and Margaret couldn't help but be captivated by it, pulling her focus away from the front of the class even more so. Each snowflake that tumbled against the window held there for a moment before vanishing into a small droplet of water, sliding down the length of the pane before another quickly came to replace it.
Christmas was just around the corner, less than a week away now, and once finals were done, Margaret would be free until the spring semester started up. It was her junior year of college, and she almost preferred the shorter winter break to the longer one in the summer. Mostly due to the holidays, a time of the year she always found enjoyable ever since she was a little girl. She couldn't wait for class to end, to walk through the freshly falling snow on the way to her car, to cuddle up at home under a blanket and watch it through the picture window of her living room as she studied for finals. Maybe even spend some time with herself, laying on her couch, letting a hand slide into her pants. Her parents wouldn't be home for hours, she'd have the whole house to herself. If only this class would end, she could--
"And it looks like that's about all the time we have today, folks. Remember, our final is at 2:15 on Thursday, and Equus will definitely be part of it," Professor Murphy said, shuffling his papers into a messenger bag as everyone in class began to rise and pack up their belongings. Margaret snapped out of her wintery daydream and joined in, sliding her notebook into her backpack and taking her coat from the back of her chair.
"Oh man, it's snowing already?" Catherine, one of Margaret's classmates, said exasperatedly as she looked out the window, throwing her jacket on. Her curly, blonde hair tumbled across the back of her coat as she adjusted it, zipping it up over her ample bust. "My car sucks in the snow."
"At least it's not coming down too fast," Margaret replied, knowing that Catherine would just find another reason to be upset.
"But I have a long drive, it's definitely going to get worse." And there it was, as it always was. Catherine was a perpetual downer, the victim in the story of her life, each day inviting another rain cloud to pour onto her head, and ONLY her head.
"I'm sure you'll be okay," Margaret said, having lost interest in talking with Catherine almost as soon as she started speaking.
As she finished putting her own jacket on, she noticed Catherine hanging around, waiting for her to leave presumably so they could walk together and she could continue complaining about her many woes. Margaret considered telling her she had to use the bathroom, or stay and talk to the professor, but it would only prolong her time spent with the overly pessimistic blonde, as she would certainly linger around and wait. And it would delay her from getting home, from relaxing, from unwinding the way she wanted to in those few quiet hours of alone time. Margaret had become Catherine's friend of convenience; the two had been put into a group project together freshman year, and ever since Catherine made it a point to cleave to her any time they shared a class.
"Where did you park?" Catherine asked, still making no effort to leave, leaning on her desk as Margaret adjusted her backpack and jacket.
"Durham Garage, way up at the top," Margaret said, pulling the jacket down in the front in a subconscious move, a move that had become a routine in her life.
"Me too!" Catherine said, her voice perking up as she finally made a few tentative steps towards the classroom door, making sure Margaret was following before she committed to leaving.