Old, worn out chairs creaked under the weight, showing it's years of use, but you paid no mind as your feet carelessly kicked underneath you, spinning your body around in a fluid and almost graceful three sixty, watching your fellow counselor beside you. His feet were kicked up on the table, his body leaned back as he held the microphone to his lips, calling out morning announcements, the same old speech every day.

Cosy morning rays flickered on the dust speckles which danced in the air and warmed your skin, as your eyes met with his. A look of tiredness in both your eyes but a grin still plastered on your faces. He'd finish the script with a cheer and signature goodbye before turning off the mic.