UNY Dorm Room, Saturday Afternoon
It was Angela's 19th birthday, but she didn't have any plans to celebrate, really. She'd let herself have a caramel latte at work --- ooh, rebellion -- and was now flopped on her bed, trying to do some reading for her women's lit final.
Of course, Virginia Woolf wouldn't do her much good if she didn't make it past freshman year, but Angela wasn't letting herself think that far ahead.
[OOC: For meeeeeee, but open to anybody who remembers her birthday.]
Of course, Virginia Woolf wouldn't do her much good if she didn't make it past freshman year, but Angela wasn't letting herself think that far ahead.
[OOC: For meeeeeee, but open to anybody who remembers her birthday.]