Andy dumped the last of his boxes onto his bed. That was it, He was in college now. No turning back. He flopped onto the bed, next to the boxes and stared at the ceiling.

"This is it, Andy. This is college." He murmured to himself. "There's no more fun and games anymore. You've got work do do." He let out a large sigh. "You should probably unpack your stuff."

He stood up and opened the box on top. It was full of text books he needed for class but on top of all that was a pile of photos. He picked it up and looked at them all, one by one. The first one was of Andy and Buster, when Andy was about 7. He was wearing his cowboy hat, the one that matched Woody's. Buster was getting old now but, in this photo, he was so young and full of energy and so was Andy. The next photo was of Andy's 11th birthday. He was wearing a brightly coloured party hat and had cake all around his face. In the background was Woody and Buzz and Jessie and Bullsye and the PotatoHeads and Hamm and Slinky and the aliens all lined up, each wearing a small, homemade party hat. Andy remembered spending hours making each of his toys a hat that specifically fit it's head shape. He remembered colouring them in with the bright crayons. Each hat had a different design: some were spotty, some where stripy, some were zig-zaggy, some had spirals. The third photo was of Andy holding Woody and Buzz running around his old bedroom with his cardboard town and his feet. When he was a kid, Andy spent hours and hours playing with his beloved toys. Each toy had a specific character with specific traits. Every time, Andy had a different story to tell: there was the time Evil Dr Porkchop tried to blow up the town using 600lbs of dynamite but Woody, Jessie, Buzz and Bullsye always came to the rescue. It was their job, they were the dream team, an unstoppable force. Andy missed being a kid again, being care free and playing with all his toys, having no responsibilities.

Andy took the three photos and pinned them on to the cork board above his bead. That way, they would always be there. He took out the text books and placed them onto the desk on the other side of the room. Luckily, Andy didn't have a room-mate this year so he had the whole room to himself. The rest of the photos were left inside the box which Andy slid underneath his bed, for easy access.

He proceeded to empty out the res of the boxes, putting his laptop onto the desk with his textbooks, putting on the blue bedsheets onto his duvet and pillow, hanging all his clothes into the small closet every student was supplied with (it was a tight squeeze but Andy made it work) and plugging in the small portable microwave and placing it onto his chest of draws (by the wardrobe)

At the bottom of the last boX, Andy found a poster. When he unraveled it, it was the size of his head to his hips. He outstretched his arms and took a look at what was on it. He had packed these boxes such a long time ago, he had completely forgotten what he had put inside. It was a Buzz Lightyear poster. It featured Buzz with his hands by his hips and looking out into space. Andy debated whether or not to put up the poster. 'What if people come in here and see it and make fun of me?" He thought. "Aren't I to old to be into kid's shows?" In the end, he decided to put up the poster on the door where it was easily visible but could be hidden behind coats and jackets.

Andy had finished unpacking. He stood in front of the door to get his first look at his accommodation for the next year or so. It didn't have the same feel as back home but it was close enough. A sudden hunger came over him, unpacking boxes washard work. He checked the clock, 06:00pm. Defiantly time to get food. He took his key card from off of the desk and slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans. If there's one thing he took away from the freshman lecture a few weeks ago was to always make sure you have your key card because the dorm-room doors lock automatically (to prevent theft or something) because it was repeated over and over and over again. H left the room.

Andy turned to close the door behind him. As he was about to walk down the corridor to the cafeteria, Andy collided with someone. "Sorry, sorry!" He apologised, frantically. He looked up at the stranger, it was a boy, around his age with light brown hair. He was slightly taller than Andy.

"No, no. It's my fault." He said, laughing. He has a thick British accent. "I'm Christopher, Christopher Robin." He says with his arm outstretched. "I'm in the room next door."

"Andy Davis." I shake his hand.

"Are you a freshman?" He asks.

"Yeah, I am. Are you?"

"Yes." He smiles. His teeth are incredibly white. "Want to get some food?"

I accept.