09:17 Oct 17 2010
Times Read: 621
The parking lot is conveniently located behind his office building.
Every morning with the peeking sun and every afternoon (sometimes nights) she walks through, quietly, her heart on her throat beating fast with every second, every step.
Three floors up, lies his office, his messy space full of papers, misplaced files, and bits and pieces of ancient computer machinery from back when the floppy disks were really 8 inch floppies, the little window on the side facing the garden, on the corner of his office where the sunlight bursts in illuminating the tight little work space and four walls full of books where she used to stare in wonder at the knowledge, the work put in, and endless hours in the afternoon working and trying to figure out theories.
In the same building, on the same floor, at the end of the hallway is the library where she spends hours studying in the quietness of fancy wooden desks, and mirror polished wooden floors.
She looks forward to these little moments where she wonders, and hopes that maybe by some coincidence she might run into him.
~*~*~*~
Walking to the library, standing at the elevator, holding my books in my arms, I stare at the button that leads to the third floor. In quiet contemplation, I press the button rapidly breathing as my blood pressure rises along with the intensity of a case of "the butterflies". As the third floor approaches, I fix my hair looking at the reflection bouncing off the steel doors.
His door is ajar, with the oblique mid afternoon shadow showing on the dark green carpet. I want to walk up to it and knock, see the surprise on his face as I peek in to see him sitting at his desk. I imagine him smiling as he turns around to see me there standing, just for him and not the academia.
My knees are weak, but I desist and walk the other direction.
The doors behind me close, and I move on with my day.
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