[b][h2][center]Jeanne Croft[/center][/h2][/b]

[hr]

There was, as there was [b]every single morning,[/b] a whirring sound coming from room 4G. Jeanne watched, bleary eyed, as cherries and vanilla extract were whirled around and sliced into itty-bitty liquid chunks. She popped the lid off of her blender, easily her best buying decision she had made in a long time, and added milk, and then hot coffee. Then another whirl in the blender, and she tipped the entire thing out into a mason jar, a hole through the lid and a straw through the hole.

She drank the entire tart, lukewarm mess in three long gulps, before sitting down on the floor and thinking of nothing much in particular. 

Every weekend was the same. Work her ass off on Saturday to make sure she had no work to do on Sunday, then mope around on Sunday because she had no work to do. It was quite the dull routine, but Jeanne was excellent at doing things over and over again pointlessly. It was why she was such a good student.

She hauled herself up and slotted another pod of coffee into her machine, before sticking an actual cup underneath it and letting it fill up slowly. She carried the blender-jug-thing and the mason jar over to her sink, where she flicked on the hot water and pulled out washing up liquid.

She hated the fact that everything she did created dirt. She wanted to, one day, experience a day when she had not made a mess, but alas, that was impossible, because she had to make her goddamn bed every morning. 

When she had washed up, she towelled off her hands and put the wet crockery onto her drying rack, before walking over to her fridge and getting out milk and cereal. Yes, she kept cereal in the fridge. It was convenient. She carried them over to her cupboard and took her coffee off, popping in two sweetner tabs and stirring. No milk. 

Cereal in hand and coffe in her other, she walked back to her bedroom and sat down at her desk, shaking the mouse to wake it up off of sleep mode. Last night's room was still on her desktop, but nobody was on it. Obviously, since she had specifically closed it. The donate jar still wiggled though, and she clicked on it to see how much she had made.

Seventeen dollars. It was something. 

She spooned cereal into her face, and opened up Facebook, then youtube. Nothing new on either. Desperately, she opened up twitch, but nobody she was subbed to was streaming. 

Fuck. She might have to [u]interact with other people.[/u]