An Hour or So at the Community College

So I went there today to do nothing else. And I didn’t do anything else, just like I had promised. The handicapped bathroom in the Art Building smelled of freshly smoked marijuana, and I hoped that the person going in after me thought that I was the one who violated the law. But it wasn’t. I walked out, and the gallery was locked. Closed at 3:30. It was nearing 5. I peered into the windows only to see my own reflection bouncing off of them. 70’s brown blinds blocked my view of what was inside. I left through the door I had come in. Library. I felt every eye glued to me as I walked through those “stolen book” detectors. I felt criminal. Weaving in and out of orderly shelves, I found a seemingly comfortable chair that sounded like it was stuffed with slightly crumpled newspaper, but it was soft enough. I read for an hour. The Almost Moon by Alice Sebold. It’s about a woman who murders her mother, and sleeps with her best friends’ son. The book reminds me that I could be worse off. The door keeps on opening and closing behind me. My stomach growls and I finish the chapter. I stood up and felt drunk. Back through those accusing doors again. I forget the concrete pathways and walk on the soft grass to the car. They did a nice job when picking which trees to put in the area. Pink blossoms were out. I saw the Photo Lab and decided to take a peek. The door is still awkwardly heavy. And they didn’t have any new photos up, which was such a shame. I was looking through a near empty frame that I’m sure has been there since before I was born. Its photos were yellowed, and the style was dated. I saw a woman walk behind me through the reflection. She stared at me the entire way. Then dropped her bag on the hard floor. I slinked out. I didn’t belong, and I didn’t blend. I used to belong. My car is a mess on the inside. Maybe it’s a metaphor for my life. I ran over the awkwardly large speed bump. I’d always hated that thing. No one had called me all day.