The Room the Rabbit Returned To

At university, the Rabbit found itself returning to its room often.
Not always by choice.
Sometimes by necessity.

There were nights out.
There were houses.
There were parties.
There were moments of connection.

And then there was sleep.
Sometimes in places where sleep was not planned.
On floors.
On sofas.
Wherever the body decided the day had ended.

Alcohol did not make the Rabbit more alive.
It made it quieter.
Heavier.
Closer to shutdown.

So eventually, the room became a kind of default position.
A place where the Rabbit could recover without explanation.

Friends existed.
But not continuously.
Presence came and went.
Like weather systems passing through.

The Rabbit did not question this at the time.
Only later did it become something to look at differently.