Intro: "Another Love" by Tom Odell
🎵 🎶
The air smelled faintly of lavender. A small reading lamp stood on the desk, its warm glow pooling over a stack of books — Theories of Modern Psychology, The Art of Perception, and a novel whose spine had cracked from overuse. Beside them sat a ceramic mug, its contents long forgotten.
Honey-colored light from the lamp spilled across pale walls. Motes of dust drifted lazily through the beam, like tiny comets caught in orbit. Pale wooden flooring stretched wall to wall — smooth, faintly reflective beneath the soft glow. A woven rug rested at the center, ivory with muted blush threads that shimmered when the night breeze slipped through the slightly open window. The walls were a gentle cream, decorated with a Pinterest-inspired mosaic of photos and floating shelves.
The photos showed pastel skies, distant cities, and a rain-drenched Polaroid girl looking away. A sheer curtain moved like a whisper against the windowpane, carrying the faint hum of city air beyond. From the ceiling, a small chandelier cast scattered reflections across the room.
The shelves held a quiet collection of small things: a potted vine plant, a framed quote reading "The world is quiet here," and a digital clock blinking 11:42 PM in soft blue.
The bed was the heart of the room — dorm-sized, raised slightly above the floor. A blush-pink duvet spilled gently over the sides, layered with knitted throw pillows in dusty rose and white. A string of fairy lights ran along the headboard, their glow diffused through tulle ribbon. One pillow still bore the faint imprint of a book's edge. At the foot of the bed, an ottoman stood neatly with folded blankets resting atop it.
I wanna take you somewhere so you know I care
But it's so cold, and I don't know where
On the bed sat a girl in her early twenties, her legs folded beneath her, a laptop open before her. A headset framed her face. She wore a loose white sweater over rose-toned lounge shorts. Beside her lay a phone and a pink iPad.
I brought you daffodils in a pretty string
But they won't flower like they did last spring
Her black hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders as her fingers moved quickly across the keyboard.
Outside, the wind stirred the trees, carrying distant laughter, slamming dorm doors, scattered voices. The night at Aldridge University was alive.
She adjusted her headset slightly, mouthing the words of the song.
And I wanna kiss you, make you feel alright
I'm just so tired to share my nights…
The rhythm seeped into her movement. Her wrist swayed with the melody, breath falling in sync with the quiet percussion.
I wanna cry and I wanna love
But all my tears have been used up…
She leaned back, scanned the words on her screen, made a few corrections, then reread them carefully.
On another love, another love
All my tears have been used up…
On another love, another love
All my tears have been used up…
On another love, another love
All my tears have been used up…
Satisfied, she adjusted her laptop screen, picked up her iPad, and opened her browser.
Oh-oh
Oh
Oh-oh, oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh
Her phone blinked twice. Two messages appeared. She glanced at the screen, thumb hovering for a moment before opening them. Her eyes flicked through quickly — then stopped. Disgust crossed her face. She dropped the phone back onto the bed.
And if somebody hurts you, I wanna fight
But my hand's been broken one too many times…
She returned to her iPad, copied something from the browser, and switched to her journal app. Her stylus moved carefully, drawing a perfect circle — small, clean, concentric, like ripples on still water.
So I'll use my voice, I'll be so f*ing rude
Words, they always win, but I know I'll lose…
The song swelled softly behind her.
And I'd sing a song that'd be just ours
But I sang 'em all to another heart…
She set the pen down, ran a hand through her hair, and closed her eyes — letting herself sink into the melody.
And I wanna cry, I wanna learn to love
But all my tears have been used up…
Her fingers tapped lightly against her thigh in rhythm.
On another love, another love
All my tears have been used up…
On another love, another love
All my tears have been used up…
On another love, another love
All my tears have been used up…
Ah-oh
Oh-oh
Oh (oh, need a love, now)
Oh (my heart is thinking of)
I wanna sing a song that'll be just ours
But I sang 'em all to another heart
When she opened her eyes, the digital clock read 12:04 AM.
Outside, a bell tolled once — a lonely sound rolling through the courtyard, bouncing off dorm walls before fading into the wind. Cierra didn't move. She only reached for the mug on the desk, took a sip of cold tea, grimaced, and set it down again.
And I wanna cry, I wanna fall in love
But all my tears have been used up
A soft knock came at the door — barely audible through her headset.
On another love, another love
All my tears have been used up…
She didn't hear it. The knock came again.
Still, her head remained bowed, eyes tracing the notes in her journal. When her laptop screen dimmed, she tapped a key to wake it again.
On another love, another love
All my tears have been used up…
The knock came once more.
"Hey," a soft voice called from across the room.
She didn't stir. The song throbbed through her headset — Tom Odell's voice filling the small space like something alive.
On another love, another love
All my tears have been used up…
The roommate sighed, removed the sheets and packed her ginger hair in a bun. She walked softly to the bed of the girl with headset.
She stopped beside the bed, watching for a moment — the headset, the stillness, the moving pen on the iPad. The girl hadn't heard her at all.
Oh-oh
Oh
The girl leaned closer, voice barely above a whisper. "Cierra?"
Oh-oh, oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh
Cierra looked up. Slowly, she removed her headset. Her hazel eyes met the roommate's — distant, half-lost in the echo of the song still playing faintly behind her.