For Breath by Breaking Benjamin
Laziness hit an all-time high, or low- depends on your outlook on life. Cup Noodles in the container, run the tap as hot as it goes. Not hot enough. Damn. Pop the whole thing in the microwave, ignore the Laws of Logic and Reason: nuking plastic poisons the food. Screw it. We all die someday.

Step outside to a blast of cold air and pull the collar up- not much of an improvement. Walk around campus, head for the library thinking today will be the last time for the next month, slurping Cup Poison deliciously straight from the Cup. Noodles are finger food. Check the phone for the time- watches are so superfluous- confirm it’s too late to see her, she’s not around. The last straw of tired hope reaches and grabs hold like that black gunk that made Peter Parker emo. The wise voice of cynical experience smirks, Really? condescendingly, and in agreement, apathy reigns. It’s not bright out, but the sunglasses steam with another gulp of Poison. The Cup comes down, and there she is, across the street. Who the fuck- some FNG boy toy- sitting in front of her with his hands on her ass. The two smiling, flirting. Wisdom rears its ugly head again- Toldja, dumbass. Collision is inevitable. The ass-hand slapped away suddenly with recognition, step away.
“Uh… hi.”
Yes, see you next term. But suddenly it would be just as well if it was next never. Turn away expressionless, empty the suddenly cold poisonous dregs nuked for 15 seconds on High.