I sit up, rub my face, and turn on the lamp beside my bed. It used to sit atop a cardboard box labeled Books. Now, it’s on a three-legged stool that was meant for the living room. Sloane and I spent more time lounging around, watching television yesterday than unpacking. My parents leave for Italy this morning, so I’ll be sleeping in my childhood bedroom for the next week and a half.

My shin collides with the suitcase on the floor as I roll out of bed. I swallow a curse and stand, rubbing the stinging skin. A clean pair of scrubs are draped over the chair in the corner, serving as my temporary closet. I shed the oversize shirt I slept in, grab a sports bra off the floor, and change before tiptoeing into the bathroom across the hall.

I run through the routine so deeply ingrained that I don’t have to think about it—convenient since I’m usually half-asleep—then return to my room to grab the suitcase. I pull on a fleece jacket and make sure my phone and the keys to the car my parents dropped off yesterday are in the pocket. I’ve been taking the bus to work in the mornings, but since my dad doesn’t need his ten-year-old Subaru while gallivanting around Italy, I’ve been granted temporary custody of it—along with the cat. Guess which one I’m more excited about. If I wasn’t so paranoid about being late, I could have slept in for an extra ten minutes.

Cool, damp air greets me when I step outside. There’s not even the faintest glimmer of light in the sky. The roll of the suitcase wheels against the concrete is the only sound on the street as I walk over to the silver Forester. The lights flash as I unlock it.

The drive to Charleston General passes quickly. It’s an easy trip, one I don’t have to think much about. Unsurprisingly, there’s no traffic this early in the morning. Once I’m awake, I don’t mind being up at this hour. There’s something special about witnessing the world when most people don’t. The stillness makes you appreciate everything more. The soft glow of streetlights illuminates the line of palm trees along the road and the cheerful colors of the buildings I pass. They fly by like a rainbow—coral, sky blue, periwinkle, a light yellow that’s similar to my parents’ lemon-cream kitchen, tangerine. I half-listen to a celebrity gossip podcast as I drive.