Ivy

I stood still in the entryway. The hard linoleum in front of me was a lake; enough water had pooled that dirt swirled within it. Too many had come this way, escaping the rain that came down to burden, to harm. The passing hours had freed the windows of the sun, only a resistant glow hung above the buildings which were situated around the vast, green quad. The progressing hour permitted my stillness. I hesitated to step forward, presumably to avoid slipping. I searched the floor moving only my eyes, calculating how best to proceed. After less than a minute I stepped firmly into the puddle, tiring of my own contemplation and ready to be home.

The classrooms were empty and I could sense them sighing. Throughout the day they contained such bound knowledge and ambition that it seemed possible that the layers of brick might not contain them. Now these rooms could delight in their loneliness. I heard the tormented rain bearing down on the building in madness, I paid it little attention. I went as far as I could down one hallway, and was forced to make a right turn, resulting in a dimness of which I was accustomed. The path opened in to an atrium of walls that seemed to reach up to thinnest airs of the sky. Light came down from hanging crystals, not enough to conquer every shadow. The windows that began at my waist and ended somewhere in heaven had become black waterfalls. No lightning yet gave a spark of lucidity. I did not relent until I saw the glow of yellow that painted the floor and faded into the opposing wall.

I had left my car at the opposite end of this building; I had been late for my first class of the day. I never wanted to be late for that class. Though my professor was always kind, I could not tolerate his stare. Around his eyes was a sweetness, and a sadness; within them…I could not bear to implore to their depth.  The moment I walked through the door, if I were late, he could allow his words to slow and forget their pace. The class would hang on his deteriorating sentence. I would squish my features together in an effort to form an apologetic smile, and at the first empty seat you fold in to escape my blushing.

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About Anna Dawes

Writer. Blogger. Vegetarian. I have two dogs that make me a little insane. I'm a nursing student. I read a lot of feminist literature; I negate it by obsessing over fashion magazines. I listen mostly to lovely lady singers, read mostly female authors, and spend most of my days surrounded by beautiful women. I consider words to be a delicate medium that only the most willing artist can bring to light. In another life I was a classic thespian. I have a purple office.
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