convocation

The hours slip away and she knows not what she has done. Across the hall a boy is taking a shower, and she wonders if all of them are deeper than they appear to be. Just because we're at the same college doesn't give any of us anything in common. We look away, selfishly, pretending we didn't see one another, pretending we've got something on our minds.

This preoccupation is killing me. But the thoughts otherwise are that I can go nowhere without running into someone I knew, or a memory. When I saw him going for books today I felt nauseous. And Sam's chair was empty, which isn't right. Even though she's been gone over a year now. We were going to be roommates.

I'll take the coldness of strangers over the heat and anxiety of remembrances, please.