Open your phone and look at the last text message you received . Then use this in some way in your following piece .

The collar of my shirt pulls at my neck as I heave my bag off my shoulder. It smacks the table with a forlorn thump, full of notebooks, requisition forms, and random pens lost in its dark nooks. `` It's over.'' I grit out, my voice raspy from too much talking ( and a few hidden tears ). 
 
 `` Mm?'' The sound is almost lost in the light spilling out of the screen in front of him, a trapped flood of photons that leaves his silhouette branded on my eyelids. 
 
 `` The lab. It's over.'' Saying it the second time is easier. The silence after is n't. 
 
 `` Well?'' I blurt, after another beat flits by quietly. 
 
 `` Sorry, what were you saying?'' 
 
 I blink. His silhouette flashes across my eyelids again, still trapped in its little screen-sized cage of light. 
 
 `` My work! My lab, my experiments, my samples! They've already ripped my name off the fucking door!'' The nameplate is still clutched in my hand, its plastic edges digging into my palm. 
 
 Silence. 
 
 `` Dammit, Sam, I'm serious! They're taking my funding, giving it to Peters' lab! Something about curing cancer, or some other medical shit. For fucks sake, everyone knows Peters has n't set foot in a hospital in a decade, let alone laid hands on a patient. But cancer's the magical word, right? Got to look good for the papers, yeah?'' 
 
 The computer makes a soft chirrup, and somewhere below the desk, a green light flashes at me, almost reassuringly. Sam does n't move. 
 
 `` Who the fuck cares about fish, anyway? Not the board, that's for sure. Never mind the fact that they're eating everything in sight, and spreading.'' I fling myself into one of the kitchen chairs, and briefly contemplate throwing my bike helmet at the wall out of sheer piqué. My recent income reduction stays my hand. The damn things are expensive. 
 
 Finally, Sam swings his chair around, and with a push of his foot, rolls himself over to the table. Nudging me to the side with his knee, Sam tucks his form into place at the table, a feat, considering the fact that I can usually see his feet sticking out the other side. It is obvious that I furnish for my height, not his. 
 
 Propping his head on his hands, Sam continues to stare at me in silence, eyebrows raised just a tad. Waiting. 
 
 `` I- What am I supposed to do now? Start over? I mean, it's not that I do n't have plenty of experiments I'd like to try, who does n't, but I have n't got any funding, and lionfish are n't cheap, plus I'd need equipment and a lab, and I have n't got any of that, or much of anything at all! Fuck!'' I babble, before burying my head in my hands. 
 
 
 **'' Well yes, that can be a problem. What about reading research articles for your experiment? `` ** 
 
 There is an amused edge to his voice that sets my skin prickling with ire. `` *Have n't you been listening to anything I just said? *'' Anger strangles my voice. `` *What experiment? I have nothing! *'' My shout echoes around the room. 
 
 Sam's eyes flick sideways, and then he's reaching across the table for something, pressing a sheet of crinkly white paper into my hand. Thrown, I stare at it, vaguely noting the seal and header splashed across the top of the page. 
 
 *Dear Ms. Greyson, we are pleased to offer you a position here at... * 
 
 The nameplate clatters to the ground, forgotten.
