Six Months in Hades

Six months. Six months till freedom. Monotonous days, early hours, hard work, lectures and tests gllore. I move from room to room, mournful, head aching. The creep down the hallway winks at me. I wince. Then continue on. Why am I here? Hunger. Hunger for the future. I've eaten the pomegranate seeds. Only six months. I pray for spring.