We’re in a sports hall for a final assembly. A speaker has wished us well and we’re all dismissed to return to our dormitories to pack up our things. I spend some time milling with the crowd saying goodbye to various people and faces that I recognise. Suddenly, the crowd thins out and I’ve got no idea where my home buddy is. A passer-by spots me and tells me that I’m to meet him in the car park. I drift through the corridors back to my room to pass, stopping outside a shop that sells sports racquets that’s randomly inside the corridors. There’s racquets leaning against the wall underneath the windowsill, and a big tin bin full of tennis balls is being used as a doorstop. I reach my room and start stripping my red bedsheets and use them to outline the contents of my old blue leather suitcase. Then I start filling it with dirty clothes. At least when I get to my friend’s house I can just discreetly pick them all up as a sack and shove it into the washing machine and none will be any the wiser as to what’s inside.
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