There was my house. I slowly climbed up to the fourth floor of the old building, which still shone with its old architecture, but was in need of restoration. There was no lift. It seemed to have stood untouched since it had been built a hundred or more years ago. Digging into my bag, I pulled out a key and unlocked the door of my small flat, which I was renting for the third year in a row, and which was costing me a lot of money. My parents sent me money, but it didn't do much for my needs, because almost all of it went to pay the rent. Sometimes I worked part-time at a café, but that money didn't help my situation. Fortunately, a rather high scholarship saved me: when I received it, I put aside money for food, tram, photocopier – that took up most of the money, but with the remaining money I bought myself books and all sorts of nice, necessary little things. I spent some money on clothes, but it was quite rare.
My wardrobe was rather modest: my upper autumn and winter clothes consisted of a long woollen jumper and a black coat, in which I often walked in the evening. Although I was a student at the University of Prague, which implied a delicate taste in the choice of clothes, my wardrobe was not diverse, as I had an unimaginable love for dark colours. But my clothes suited my mood: I was often in a serious reverie or simply in a flat mood. Cosmetics didn't appeal to me, and of all their variety I used only black mascara and pale bronze shadow, even though my classmates said I should hide my pale lips under a layer of bright lipstick, that I should get a perm because my naturally straight hair didn't suit me at all… And a thousand other little things I didn't pay attention to.
Entering the tiny hallway, I took off my coat, carefully hung it on the hangers in the wardrobe and, throwing my bag on the old cloth sofa, gladly took off my autumn boots, and then went straight to the kitchen to put the kettle on the fire: I was terribly thirsty for coffee.
After evening coffee I started my daily student routine: preparation of seminars, essays, reports, independent study of topics… And, although this evening I could do everything at once, but I decided not to burden my tired mind, and to do the tasks step by step. Study is study, but no one cancelled rest. And how could my brain, saturated with information and excitement, fix anything sensible? But I suddenly remembered that Monday was coming soon, and the knowledge of this inevitable event made me worry that when I met Cedric, my voice would rise to a second soprano.