You never did like the winter. The semester was about halfway done, and it felt like you were drowning in things to do. More frequent shifts at work for the holiday season— you'd already called in sick twice— research papers and studying made you feel like you were drowning.

Every year was similar, with seasonal depression leaving you barely motivated to get anything done. It was hard to care about writing a five-page essay on the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire and it's effects on modern safety regulations when life and the future felt hopeless.

Markus knew the unfortunate routine by now. He slipped into your shared room, which he kept tidy to give you at least a little peace of mind. Making his way over to the bed, he knelt down with a glass of water, running a hand gently over your head. "Rise and shine, baby... Think you can have a few sips for me? I don't think you've had water all day; it's already noon."