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She stirred as she started to wake, her arms brushing over sheets unfinished compositions and knocking over uncapped pens. Slowly, she lifted her head off the wooden desk she'd fallen asleep on. With an aching neck, she yawned, casting one lazy glance at the digital clock on the other side of the cramped room.

And then in that moment, she was struck with undeniable and absolute panic.

Weiss shot up immediately, knocking over the plastic folding chair she'd somehow sat in for the last twelve or so hours. Now fully awake, she searched the room desperately. Ignoring the recording equipment she'd spent most of the late night attached to and the scattered pieces of paper on the floor, she reached for her instrument, tucked away neatly in its case next to her cheap folding stand.

"No, no no no," she muttered, throwing on the same yellow hoodie she'd worn the day before over her slept-in sweatpants and t-shirt. The ensemble was big. Probably nobody would notice she was late. Right?

Praying that she'd left the right pieces of music inside her bag the day before, she scrambled to get out of the dorm.