When life gives you fire, take a study break

Every Thursday, they test the fire alarms in my dorm building. Every Thursday. I’m usually not around—I didn’t even realize this happened until yesterday, when a horrendous loud beep sounded when I was in the middle of editing an essay. The alarms went off around the same time this morning, and I was so annoyed, I ignored them. Then I remembered it wasn’t Thursday. I grabbed my keys and left my room. In the hallway, I saw smoke ebbing from the communal kitchen and heard frustrated voices inside. Just some novice cooks who’d left the oven on for too long. I headed outside to wait out the “fire.” I stood with some friends, watching the fire trucks pull up, until I remembered that Fitzroy Square, the private green a block away from our dorm, had just opened to the public for the first time all year. We decided to walk over. Instead of standing around in front of our embarrassingly unburnt dorm, I made daisy chains under the sun.