Ellie Rowe reminisces on the comforting chaos of Freshers’ Week.

A blank wall
And onion skins between the door
Held open by a brick, with no obvious place in the cardboard
Foreign voices through the tissue paper
Or a song once heard on a different morning
Carpet feet, that tiptoe along an emergency lit hallway
When the sandwich toaster set the house on fire
And blew out all the lamps.

Always a visitor – an unknown chuckle and mysterious text
About stolen leftovers, orphan vodka
And a foil blanket fluttering stuck on the sliver of an open window
Next to five-pound wine in the grass.

I will open the door to a new face
Until it closes on a friend.

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Artwork by Iona Angus.