I feel like I'm in one of those old Looney Tunes cartoons, and I've been running full tilt only to suddenly find myself at the edge of a sheer cliff, staring down in bewilderment.

Except, hello, I've known this was coming. After all, one does not simply suddenly appear in a freshman dorm, enrolled in a college five hours from home. So why do I have a sinking feeling in my stomach?

"This is the right building, isn't it?" My mom calls from behind me, and I hear the car door slam.

It would be hard to mistake Stanton Hall, the most obvious reason because it's tucked away from the other dorms. It's the oldest dorm, built down by the river that cuts through campus, only four stories tall (luckily my room is on the second floor), and ivy entwines the weathered grey bricks. It's not flashy, but as soon as I saw it on my college's website, I fell in love. I'm a sucker for charm, what can I say.

"Yeah, this is it," I reply, voice flat. I turn back to the car and heft out a box. It feels so weird to look in the trunk and realize that's my life in there, shoved into boxes. I try to make myself feel excited again, but I just feel scared.

My mom and I walk into Stanton's lobby in silence. The pictures didn't do it justice. The opposite wall is made up of wall-to-ceiling windows, the old-school type with delicate framing and built-in wooden benches on the bottom. The view overlooks the river below, and sunlight streams in. Next to the window is a large oak table, with a dozen chairs (all neon and none of matching), and there's a few beanbags in the corner.

A girl is sprawled out on one of the beanbags, grinning as she watches something on a iPad. When we walk in, she puts it down and looks up, pushing auburn bangs out of sparkling green eyes. Spotting me, she jumps up with somewhat alarming speed. "Welcome, my freshman! I'm Katelyn, your RA!"

She practically skips over and offers me her hand. I shake it with a small smile. "Jill Kramer," I introduce, "and this is my mom."

"C'mon over to the front desk, I'll check you in. The first and last attendance we'll have, I promise." She winks and leads us over to the desk. "Leave your boxes there, this'll just take a sec."

Katelyn talks us through different forms and after signing several dotted lines, I have my room key in hand.

"Room 207. I'll walk you up, but then I have to get back to gatekeeping," Katelyn says, picking up one of my boxes as I pick up the other.

"Which you were doing so vigorously before we came," I say with a smirk.

"Ha. We're gonna get along well." Katelyn bumps her shoulder into mine. "Alright, let's see. Mail boxes are down the hall, first right, across from the elevators, which we'll be taking unless you guys want to take the stairs? Didn't think so," she laughs at our grimaces.

As we take our short ride in the elevator, I examine my RA. She obviously has a lot of energy, as evidenced by the fact that she's rarely still - even now she's bouncing on the balls of her feet, humming some song under her breath. But it's the kind of bubbly energy that's like champagne, addicting but not overwhelming or exhausting. Her hair is short, fiery, and...I guess "untamed" is the politest way to phrase it. There's a tattoo on her shoulder that barely peeks out from under her tank top, but I can't make out what it is before the elevator dings and the doors open.

We walk a few doors down, and I glance at nametags on the doors - Grace and Cara, and Abby and Laura, people and faces that I've yet to know. Hopefully they're people and faces that don't like to blast music at 2 a.m., or do whatever else from the online college horror stories that I decided after the first five not to read.

"Showers are at the end of the hall, use your room key to get in. And then right across the hall from that are trash and recycling, and trash bags are at the front desk if you need them," Katelyn recites. "Taylor is your roommate, but she hasn't checked in yet so you get first dibs."

I open the door and step into my new home. Pretty standard from what I'd seen on my college tours. A wooden bunk bed along one wall, two desks along the other, a sink, counter, mirror, and closets. Spartan. It would feel almost militant if it weren't for the large window, open and letting the summer breeze waft in, on the wall across from the door.

"Well, now that I've escorted you to your luxurious quarters, I must get back to my toilsome duty. Farewell." She mock-bows. "And if you have any questions, I'll be downstairs for...well, awhile." She leaves and closes the door softly behind her, and the room is shatteringly quiet in her absence.

Moving my stuff in takes more time than I'd thought. What looked so small in the car expands once it's in my room, strewn haphazardly across the floor.

"I've made your bed," my mom says from the top bunk as I hang my favorite leather jacket next to my various assortment of plaid shirts. Stereotypical attire for a gay girl, I know, but considering it's a fashion I can just pull over a t-shirt and jeans, I'm okay with it.

"Where do you want your coffee pot?"

"On my desk," I answer automatically. "Easy access in the mornings." Though luckily my college mornings are going to be happening a lot later than my high school mornings, I'm still going to be needing my daily caffeine boost. My blood might actually stop flowing without it.

I survey the room. The walls are still sparse, but it feels more homey, like a place I might actually want to come back to at the end of the day.

"The rest is just clothes," my mom says, hands on hips. She checks her watch and frowns, but doesn't say anything. The light outside my window is deepening into that amber summer-evening color.

"It's getting late," I state. She has a five hour drive to get back home that will only get longer in the night.

"I know." My mom sighs, then gives me a tight-lipped smile. "Give me a hug, kiddo."

The second I wrap my arms around her I start crying. I don't mean to, but there's something about it, how everything seems to have happened all at once, 18 years in the blink of an eye, and tears fall down my face before I can stop them.

"I'll miss you," I say thickly as I take a step back.

"I'll miss you too. I love you, and I'm so proud of you." My mom wipes away her own tears from watery blue eyes.

"Bye Mom."

"Bye Jill."

It sounds so definitive, and when the door closes, and I feel like I've taken a flying leap off the edge of a cliff, and I'm freefalling.

Hello again, all. I'm back after an extended hiatus, sorry about that. I became really disenchanted with all the stories I wrote, just because over these few years I've been developing my writing style and my writing approach, and I feel like I've outgrown these stories. So here's my attempt to revamp them, hopefully you enjoy. Also, I've changed it to a college setting just because I think college gives more story/character options, and it's not as popular a setting for stories as high school is.