You lie in bed for a few minutes, trying to will yourself back to sleep, but you find yourself doggedly awake for some reason. You pull yourself out of bed and select a bra for the day from the pile of clothes by your bedside. Stumbling over to the mirror and sink, you take a look at your bleary green eyes, make a vague effort to get your messy, mid-length black hair into shape and then start brushing your teeth. The brush is bright pink and hideous, but it was a Hallowmas present from last year and it was free.
Basic needs taken care of, you pick out a t-shirt from the drying rack (bearing a comic depicting King Aed the First in a cartoonish style reminiscent of medieval woodcuts, standing around and making awkward comments in a modern day shopping centre) and throw it on, then a pair of cargo pants from the cupboard. A glance at your coffee table reveals the presence of your coursework folder, where in your rather spidery handwriting it proudly proclaims itself the property of one 'Annaring Prescott'.
There is a beeping from your phone, which you pick up from the bedside table. In front of a cheerful photograph of your parents, a little white box with a picture of a blonde girl in overly large sunglasses indicates a text from Shell.
oi, ring! glad you finally got a day off. lunch outside the museum?