First day of college

First Impressions (rough draft v2)

Today is the big day—your first day of college. The dawn is just breaking as you set out, and by the time you arrive at the campus, the atmosphere is buzzing with life. You feel your heart pound in your chest as you step onto the grounds, your backpack weighing heavy not just with textbooks but also with the weight of new beginnings.

As you walk towards the psychology department, you overhear snippets of conversation. One catches your attention—a classmate talking about the importance of self-exploration and personal growth. The words resonate with you and keep playing at the back of your mind as you go through the day's classes.

The focus on human behavior in your psychology course leaves you intrigued, fascinated even. It's a subject you didn’t know you could be so passionate about until now. The day seems to fly by, almost in a blur, fueled by the excitement of new experiences and the adrenaline rush of academic stimulation.

When you unlock the front door and step inside, your senses are immediately greeted by the delicious aroma of a home-cooked dinner. Miss Isabelle is there, of course, with that enigmatic smile of hers that always seems to suggest she knows more than she lets on.

"How was your day?" she asks. Her eyes gleam with an almost uncanny interest as if your answer holds some secret she’s eager to discover.

You recount your day, sharing your newfound enthusiasm for psychology and human behavior. As you speak, you notice her eyes narrowing slightly, as though mentally filing away each detail for future reference.

"Ah, personal growth and exploration," she mulls, a knowing smile spreading across her lips. "There’s a local club dedicated to just that. Perhaps you'd be interested in exploring it?"

Later, as you prepare for bed, you notice a pink bottle of skincare product perched on the corner of your bathroom counter. A handwritten note accompanies it: "Good for both men and women. Trust me, it will do wonders for your skin. -I."

You hesitate for a moment. The sight of the bottle feels like an invasion of your private space. Yet, her note and her expressed confidence in the product sway you. With a resigned sigh, you uncork the bottle. The lotion is cool to the touch, and as you apply it, a tingling sensation dances across your skin, almost as though the product is being absorbed into your very pores.

Lying in bed, you can’t shake the day's events from your mind. Why is Miss Isabelle so invested in your personal growth? Sure, it's kind to care, but something about the depth of her interest feels disproportionately intense, even unsettling.

Your eyes wander to the mirror hanging on the wall opposite your bed. You gaze at your reflection, wondering what college will bring to someone like you.

In her room, Miss Isabelle watches your compliance unfold through her own set of observations. Her lips curl into a satisfied smile, utterly confident in the hidden depths of your potential.

"You just need a little guidance," she murmurs to herself, "and I'm just the person to provide it."