I sat my last two exams today, French in the morning and Scottish Lit this afternoon. I have spent the evening packing up the things in my desk drawers and on my bookcase shelves, and all I have left to do for work is write a six-page paper for which I have already done all of the research. Why, then, when I am so close to finishing everything, when home is literally less than forty-eight hours away, can I not motivate myself to just start typing?
Rachael and Olivia both leave tomorrow. It will be weird saying goodbye, and even weirder being here when they are not.