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Simone au Havre
Segments of white glaring light seep past the grey shutters of my apartment. My phone hangs on to its finite battery. Reverberating, it slowly glides past my pillow onto the edge of the bed, crying out the 15 songs I have set as my wake up greetings. With the guffawing bellows of my fifth consecutive alarm simmering the living soul out of my phone, I am finally awake. Tip tap, Tip tap. Yawns subside as the alarm changes its tone. I stand up only to fall back again, these are sad efforts of a sleep-deprived student. I crisscross across the…