People seriously don't understand how hard graduate students' lives are. Someone like me who is clueless about her career. Not that I don't care but I don't have any goal nor ambition. I don't have that certain thing that motivates me. 

"At least have a sunny bright day!" I grumble at the dark grey sky that threatens to rain at any second possible. A strong wind picks up and blows in my direction. A sudden light flashes in the sky and the sky crackles.

I feel something wet on my cheek as I glance up the sky. Raindrops. It's raining. The sky, the mighty big horizon is crying. I run to the nearest shelter, a dessert shop.

"Guess it's not my day," I heave a sigh and leaned my body against the glass door. Staring at the sky, I wonder when the rain will stop its endless weeping.

The glass door slides open without a warning and I fell back, on my . "Heyyy!" I turn my head back to see a pair of black converse tapping on the ground impatiently.

"Are you homeless?" The stranger asks. I swear my nose twitched.

"Do I look like a hobo to you?" I question in astonishment. I pick myself off the ground and dust my jeans. He eyes me from head to toe and nods. "Yeah, pretty much. But who cares. Now move it," he replied in an annoyed tone.

His brown locks are tangled in a mess. His brown eyes, it's like a pool of chocolate that I can melt in. Too bad his attitude is horrible.

I shift aside so he could make his way to whatever business he had to attend. In the process, I tripped on my shoelaces and fall backward. In reflexes, I reach out for his shirt but he swiftly swats my hand away like it's some despicable fly.

My poor booty immediately feels the unbearable pain from the cold harsh ground. My gaze shoots to him as he displays his angelic smile. "Oops. My bad. Sorry Mrs. Hobo,"  He snickers and stalks off.

My blood pressure probably had risen to the point where my veins would pop and send all kinds of signal to the brain. I grit my teeth and pick myself off the ground again, not bothering to dust off the dirt on my jeans. If I ever see that guy again, ever, it will be the end of him. I will return the favor to him.

"I'm not even married," I huff.

I notice the little cupcakes displayed on the shop's window. It catches my eyes. My mom used to bake me cakes and other types of desserts all the time. She always insisted on making more though I couldn't even lift a finger anymore. It was nice.

Absent-mindedly, I push the shop's door to check out the sweets but it wouldn't budge. "Ehhh?" I step back and stare at the glass door. The shop's close right after...ugh, that jerk left. He must have done something to annoy the owner and caused them to close the shop. What a troublesome guy.

The wind blows hard and some kind of leaflet sticks right on my face. "Oi!" I pull it away and examine it. DESSERT HOUSE, it says. HELP NEEDED.

"Hmm...help needed, huh?" I smile.

He runs into the restaurant, hair flying in all directions. He greets the elders that waited for him at the table. "Mom, father! It's great to see you guys," he beams and settles himself dow