Gauche is a lifestyle.

The sunrise is blinding, hitting the airplane like a million tiny bullets that ricochet all over the green walls, making it look like Christmas. Why did I pick green? I don't even like green. Green is that default colour that people use if they don't know your favourite colour in a shirt they want to get for your birthday; it is safe, it is universal, it is synonymous with being environmentally aware, being ill, and with being the new kid on the block.

I remember that I told my parents I wanted this room because it was the biggest non-master bedroom in the house. It looks like a barn, vaulted ceilings and a large window with a sunrise-pane (because I do not know the official term).

But that is not why.

Big rooms are terrible. I can crank up the heat until our bill starts crying, and still the blankets must be piled on like I'm in a refugee camp for underacheivers. It is so lonely, I never turn off my computer. I think this playlist has been on for at least seventeen weeks.

I picked this room for the light, because the other rooms offer only views of the sunset, which is sickeningly opposite to the one back home; sometimes I cannot tell if the orange glow is from the sun itself or the smog mustache of the city.

I have to see the sunrise. I want to know that there is another chance, another day to undo what I've done. Waiting until the end of the day to know whether or not I must hand in my torch is no option. There are too many things to do, too many people to be. I can never seem to catch up with them all, but maybe someday we'll all be on the same train platform.

Also, I have noticed that there is a connection between how much coffee I have left in my cup and how many words I have left in my fingertips.

I am out of coffee.