It's almost final week and I'm crashing into a cafe like a plane running out of fuel.
The moment I step in, the whole room feels like an alternate universe—somewhere between an exhausted battlefield and an artist's fever dream. Tables are overflowing with papers, open sketchbooks, tangled charger cords, and cups that were full of coffee hours ago but now sit like abandoned relics of ambition. I squeeze past chairs and bags and weary bodies, all of us trying to survive.
This place used to be a quaint, quiet spot. But during exam season, it transforms into something else entirely. A makeshift sanctuary. A madhouse.
A kind of purgatory, designed—ironically—with beauty. Painted walls, sun-dappled windows, paper lanterns swaying slightly above our heads. This cafe was designed by one of Laudeith Academy of Art's own alumni. That's why the owner doesn't kick us out.
