how busy the sidewalks were in between classes. Like, so many people, either focusing on their phones or jamming out to whatever music was in their AirPods. Some of them were in groups of friends, walking together, talking and laughing. I kept my hands on the straps of my bag, my fingers toying with the fraying edges of it.
This was just another day for me. Yet another day to get through, another day I couldn’t wait for it to end.
At least, that’s what I thought.
Today was actually the day that everything would start to change.
Chapter Two – Mason
Getting out of bed in the morning was tough. Super tough. I was not a morning person, which was why I always carried a huge travel mug full of coffee to class. I drank that shit like it was the fountain of eternal youth, the fountain of life. It kept me sane, mostly because I hated myself for scheduling such an early class.
Silly me of last semester thought the earlier I was done with classes would mean the earlier I could go home. Had a part-time job at a local grocery store, you know. Not super proud of it, but I’d had it since I was fifteen, which was…six years ago? Damn, I was getting old.
Yeah, twenty-one and still at the local community college. I knew it was a little weird, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do. There was no point in choosing a major when I flitted from thing to thing every week. One day I thought being a therapist would be cool, but then the next week I realized I didn’t want to listen to people all day. Then I thought, maybe I could be a doctor—Mom always said I was smart.
But then I’d have to get my hands dirty on a daily basis, see other people’s blood. Yeah, did not want that.
The thing about growing up, I guess, was that you always shot for the stars, reached for the sky even though the majority of us would never get there. That wasn’t me putting anyone down; it was the truth. No one grew up wanting to be a janitor or a custodian. Everyone wanted to be the doctor or the teacher or the astronaut.
Then we grew up, and our childish dreams seemed just that: childish.
I wasn’t the only one who didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, and that made me feel a little better. If I was the only one fumbling around, clueless in this big, wide world, I’d feel pretty stupid. Luckily, most everyone I talked to on campus felt the same, even if most were a few years younger than me.
Today was a Monday, and Mondays were especially hard for me. Something about them always seemed more difficult than any other day of the week, probably because it was the day after Sunday, the last day of the weekend. Getting back into the groove was hard, what could I say?
Unfortunately, me needing coffee made me stand in the kitchen at home and wait for it to brew. Then I got caught in some road construction, and then I couldn’t find a damned parking spot in the lot. I had to find a spot on the street and try to dig out a few quarters to pay the meter.
Yeah. Mondays were so not my favorite day of the week.
By the time everything was good, I realized I was going to be late to class.
Great. Just great. Professors really loved it when you strolled in five minutes late.
That was sarcasm, because they most definitely hated it. They stopped talking to glare at you as you tried to stroll in quietly and not make a fuss, thereby making a bigger fuss than they would’ve if they would’ve just kept on lecturing.
I got it, their time was valuable, but sometimes life happened. Sometimes you couldn’t be on time to save your life.
The only saving grace about me being late to this particular class was that the room wasn’t full. When I snuck in, I was able to get my ass in a seat in the back before the teacher heard the door close.
Not where I normally sat; on every other good day, I sat more towards the middle front—they say you’re better able to pay attention the closer to the front you are, but I’d heard that sometimes in the very front, you’re subjected to some saliva if the