She checks her phone every 5 seconds like it’s a newborn child.
She thinks she hears the harsh vibrating sound of the beginning of the end of her relationship.
She starts to think of the good times, her ugly imagination getting the best of her.
She scrapes her black acrylic nails on the desk in anticipation.
She tucks her frizzy hair behind her ear as she struggles to write down details of the French Revolution.
She reapplies the sticky lip gloss he loves, thinking hes watching.
She takes a sip of her camelback that she wishes was filled with vodka.
She checks her phone for the last time and sees the text shes been waiting on.

“yeah whatever”