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Seven

A couple of weeks passed after that. 

Troye is coming down from his bedroom. It's a holiday, and so there are no classes. He's still in his pajamas, and he yawned. He prepared a coffee, scrambled some eggs, and toasted some bread. He brought it to the kitchen table, grabbed one chair, and ate. 

The view of the city is what he sees each morning and each night, and it never fails to amaze him. He stared at it, thinking how lucky he was to have this life. Well, my life's almost completely perfect if I hadn't just bumped into Troye on the first day, he thought.

He grabbed his back from one of the chairs and pulled out his notebooks and books. It's a holiday, but he's got a lot to do. 

He brings out his pen, his calculator, and his paper pads. He sighed. There is just so much to do, and I am overload. 

As he reaches for more things, he reaches his shoes and says, "You're my favorite sneakers, but you bring bad memor

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