Nick Russell

Thaw

Jack stood and turned towards his closet. His dorm room, so graciously provided by Pen State was no bigger than a jail cell and at times it even managed to achieve a jail cell’s cold lonely atmosphere as well. Stepping in front of his full length mirror, another amenity courtesy of Pen, he traced his fingers over the bumps and scratches from decades of use before settling his eyes on his own reflection. Brown eyes stared back at him haloed in olive skin and sunken behind brown hair that had fallen in front of them. His thin frame adjusted in the mirror and following as he reached for the door handle and pulled it open. Inside rested a backpack filled to the brim with clothing, canned food, and other assorted survival equipment.