Le Cachot

I'm in solitary confinement in my room the color of a pumpkin shell. Peter didn't put me here; my professors did, with all their writing assignments. I have to write my way out of this prison! Summary of Aquinas on Ethics, a critique of The Sound and the Fury, a non-fiction opinion piece, directions to all the major buildings on campus en Francais (I can't come up with them in English, so I'm in trouble!). There's more I'm sure, but I will have to check my syllabi.

There's a frosting of snow on the ground and the trees this morning, but the roads are clear. I'm dreaming up an escape ruse for later in the day. A walk? An afternoon in the library? A trip to the store to get more yarn?