Breathe. The air feels cold on my nose, it’s the only piece of me I’ve allowed to face the world. I shove my hands deeper into my old jacket, it smells a bit like grease…like a shop. A memory flashes quickly, but is forgotten before any emotions can take effect. I look at the road trying to imagine my ride pulling up, but I‘ve still got an hour to wait.

I know I failed that test, but I don’t care. I brush the hair out of my eyes exposing them to the world briefly before the strands fall back in place. Why don’t I care? I start walking towards the back of the school. I hope he’s not dead. I drag my feet, but there isn’t much noise, the wind’s too loud. I stare at my feet as I walk, one...two…three… eins…zwei…drei…

I try to figure out exactly why I don’t care about that test. Nothing comes to mind, I’m just impartial to the whole idea of school, of jobs, of life in itself. I hope he’s not dead. I look around the corner of the school for one of the guys on the golf carts. They’d take your head off if you weren’t really careful where you were walking. That sort of pisses me off.

I turn to walk next to the library after realizing the coast is clear. As I make my way past the entrance I stop and look at myself in the glass and wonder who’s on the other end. You cant see through the library glass, like it matters, no one is ever in there in the first place. The books smell funny, well so I’ve been told. I stop thinking and just look at myself briefly, I can only stand a seconds glimpse. I look like a shadow. I am a shadow.

Boredom sinks in, the batteries in my mp3 player ran out awhile ago. I decide to walk back down to the Humanities Dept. hoping to see a familiar face, particularly one that might actually recognize me as a human being. I hear that voice in my head. It’s his. I hope he’s not dead. It just says everything’s going to be okay over and over again. That in itself alarms me. It says my name over and over. I wince a bit, I like that sound sometimes. Everything’s going to be okay. I’m glad you know my name. I go back to worrying.

I make my way past the dull brown buildings until I reach the Humanities Dept. It’s barren apart from a guy smoking a cigarette on one of the benches. He’s just a dreary as the rest of this place with his baseball cap and hoody. I bet he paid two hundred bucks for those pants. What a joke. I stop for a moment to take in the smell of cigarette smoke. Another memory flashes, this one stays more than a second. Childhood comfort comes into play, but only briefly. I continue to walk away.

I keep trudging along until I realize I’ve made my way to the registry department. I can see the women pushing papers in their offices through the glass, they’re all wearing the same sweater. I feel bad for the students who are enrolling, but only for a moment. I look on the side of the building for the man who founded the school’s name. I can never remember it. Sometimes, I don’t even think the man actually existed. I forget it and continue to worry, I hope he’s not dead.

As I walk past the offices trying to avoid the attention of the people inside I accidentally run my knuckles against one of the rocky podiums. I hate those things. I look at the podium and then my bleeding knuckles. I pull a bit of skin shrug. I make it a point to grind my knuckles against each podium I pass. It takes my mind off things. I don’t wonder if he’s dead.

I reach the end of the buildings and look around. Sigh. I turn to head down the ramp that leads to the front of the building where I started out. A middle aged woman walks past me and looks at me funny. I give her a weird look, but quickly turn my eyes back to my feet. I start whistling Beethoven’s Fifth, she walks away quickly and I turn the corner and smile.

Here we are again. I look around and decide to take a path the school’s set out for the walking class. It stretches up and down a bumpy terrain until you hit the main road. I consider walking all the way across it and going to the communication center so I can pace in front of Prof. Thomas’ painting class. I reconsider though, she might recognize me and want to talk. I cant handle my self esteem being toyed with tonight, I cant handle anything tonight. Drawing means nothing to me when death is looming in the art.

I think about that test again. I’m still not phased which in itself phases me. The future is no further than the next hour. I just gotta get home. I picture a thousand scenarios about what’s going on with my life, none of them are any good. They all involve death, which is the only thing that is really on my mind at the moment. It’s the only thing that’s ever on my mind lately. Es tut mir leid.

Two joggers pass by in their carefully planned out workout clothes. They look at me funny, but I just scratch my nose, they’re gone before I know it. They’ll be gone before they know it too. We all will.

I walk over to a set of stairs and stand on them. Why are they even here? I walk up and down them about five times and then I lean against the railing. I begin to think the usual garbage. Here I am on this walk and all it’s done is prove to me that the world is ugly and it smells like cat piss. Maybe it doesn’t always seem this way, but at this very moment this is all I can see. My thoughts are clouded, what if he’s dead?

I push myself off the railing and walk back to the main building. I sit on the flower bed next to the staircase and dig in the soil for a minute. It must cost them a lot of money to keep up with this little piece of soil. I look at the flowers, I couldn’t name a single one of them. I couldn’t careless that I cant, they couldn’t either. They exist the same as I do, what more do you want from them? They’re all dying from the cold anyway. We’re all dying from the cold. I hope he’s not dead. I brush one of the flowers with my thumb and wonder if it feels it.

A bird chirps from the branches of the miserable looking tree planted in front of the flower bed. I look up at its body surrounded by the grayness of the sky. A drop of icy water hits my nose. I wipe it off with the jacket sleeve that hangs over my hands like a security blanket. I look up at it again and wonder why it hasn’t left for the winter yet. I forget it, it can take care of itself. Everyone can take care of themselves. I stop worrying about life for a moment and feel the earth spin beneath me. A song plays in my head and I feel its lyrics coursing through me like the blood in my veins.

I watch the nearest streetlight illuminate in front of my eyes. The sky turns into a naval blue and I can see the moisture in the air dancing around the vacant cars in the parking lot. I cant drive. I don’t want to. The cars are prettier than the people who drive them. Some of them look ashamed to have cartoon characters and dancing Hawaiian women on their dashboards, you can see these things sometimes. You just have to really look. The icy rain falls harder.

I look down at my knuckles that are slightly bloody. I start to pick and squeeze at one until the blood stops to flow and a clear liquid fills the holes in my hand. I’m alive. I look up again and see the car is coming, I hide my hands in my jacket. I hop off the flower bed and pull the backpack off my back with a sigh of relief, it gets heavy. I get in the car. Everything is going to be okay, because that’s all anything can ever be. Okay.

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