The hostel is quieter than I expected. I’ll be spending my holidays here for the first time, thousands of miles away from home, surrounded by walls that bear no warmth. My roommates went home a few days ago, so I blast music from my mp3 player to fill the silence, to pretend there’s still life here. I scroll through my gallery, smiling at pictures from last year, tears threatening to spill over. I miss them. I miss them so much. If I were at home, I’d probably be helping in the kitchen, stealing bites of meat and getting scolded for it. My cousins – those tiny little things – would be in the sitting room, watching their cartoons at full volume. The house would be bustling with activity, and everyone would be talking at once. I’d be annoyed by the noise, not knowing how much I would miss it. Christmas was sacred and I hate school for taking that away from me. The music fades into the background, and the room settles back into its stillness. I pull my blanket tighter around me and close my eyes, the memories keeping me company.