The Unorthodox Woman

It is a Monday morning. I grudgingly throw away my blankets. Considering the distance from the male hostel to class, I already know that I will be late for my first class at 8. Half asleep, I don my green towel; take my toothbrush and kibuyu soap then head to the bathroom. This is after I turn up the music on the woofer just to annoy my snoring roommate. It has become some kind of ritual which he started and I joined him since I couldn't beat him. In the washroom, the hoard guys look like hypnotized zombies going around their business. 

The first person I notice is Davi, the award-winning tosspot, busy washing muddy trousers after an overnight stay at F2 club.  His red, bloodshot eyes tell the story. Muge, the religious fanatic on the other hand is hurriedly brushing his shoes probably after a kesha at his church.