This morning, at 8:02AM, Jan woke up and decided she didn’t want to live anymore.
She looked around her childhood room, although different than it was growing up, still simmered in the memories of her jaded past. The Crayola green and blue and white polka-dotted hippie wallpaper that once lined her walls was now replaced by a drab white-ish paint that didn’t really conceal the little ticks and bumps in the wall. On top of that were posters and paintings of foreign countries Jan had visited (and some that she hadn’t but her mom thought she might like anyway). There were too many plants, as if her mother not-so-secretly would rather have her room be a greenhouse rather than house the being who actually grew up there. The furniture was all brown, some of it interesting like the Chinese cabinet with the fish lock or the writing desk that looked like it was from the early 1900s. Some of it was the least interesting furniture there could be. All of it brown, yet none of it matched.