Sitting next to Mike, watching some hockey. There is a rather large moustache hair under my nose that I missed while shaving this morning. Not all writing has to communicate a message. Mike’s fingers smell like peanut butter. He looks concerned. I heard the word clemmenson, the name of a hockey player (?), and I thought of orgo. I had my last tutoring zone session today. I’m going to miss Lauren. I don’t know what I’m going to do on Tuesdays anymore. Tuesdays used to be the highlight of my week, but now they are just going to be a regular day. Mike keeps sighing, never taking his eyes off the tv. It’s cute. Blargablargablarga.