I jolt awake, almost flinging myself out of bed. My heart is pounding out of my chest, and I’m drenched in my own dried sweat and feeling parched as a wasteland. I look up at my ceiling, half expecting it to be something from a nightmare, but all I see is the same small ceiling of my dorm that I remember so familiarly.
The window I had not completely closed the night before was now covered in a dull morning dew refracting the morning light. I wipe my hands on my bed but to no avail. Surprisingly, I step out of bed, find the world spinning, and fall to my knees. Trying to recollect myself, I wonder why I am like this. I don’t remember having any nightmares, and I’ve never been one to dream much at all. The night before seemed relatively uneventful; after another unsuccessful date, I returned to my dorm and tried covering my feelings by studying.
I look over to the small desk beside my bed with slightly crinkled papers that look like drops of water have dried on it. I wince and look away, and my eyes catch on my rusty white mini fridge; I stumble over, holding onto anything I can. I pull the door hard, which slides the refrigerator along the cheap brown carpet towards me. I stand up straight, step back a few steps, and pull my right leg back. With a swift kick of my heel to the fridge latch, it slams against the wall with a bang, and I notice the dent where I kicked it getting more profound.
The door to the mini fridge slowly sways open without a sound despite having to kick it unlocked. The light inside flickers like a horror movie, which it just about was. In the dim morning light and the flicker of the fridge, I see a bag of bread and an open plastic bottle of a slightly clear liquid. The label is hard to make out in the dim light, so I grab it and hope it isn’t too expired. I drink the whole bottle within seconds, barely tasting anything.
I sputter up what was left in my mouth, and a sour and bitter taste lingers in the back of my mouth. I toss the bottle in my overflowing wastebasket next to my door, attempting to remind myself to take it out. I gain my composure and saunter into my tiny bathroom, which leaves nothing to the imagination. The sink and toilet are right in front of the door, and the shower is closer than elbow distance. Cramped would be an understatement.
When I see myself come into focus in the mirror, I let out a deep mix of a sigh and a groan
” Ugh, I look like shit. How did I get like this.”
I wet my hand and slick back my longer brown hair to see my eyes. I know it won't be long before I have to leave for class, so I slick my hair back with some water and splash myself some more to attempt to remove my sweat. I grab my small cup of herbs I found a few days ago. They appear to be withering despite having enough water in the cup.
”I guess I have to get some more after class.” I think
I take the herbs from the cup, crush them in my hand, and use them like deodorant.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
After throwing on fresh clothes, I yank my phone out of the home-made charger for it. I found the phone buried in mud when I was in the military, and having to live with what I had, the chargers for that type had long faded into obscurity, so I made my own out of scrap wires I found in recycling. I grab my backpack at the door, and just as I am leaving my room, my phone finally turns on, and I see what time it actually is.
”Oh Fuck! I’m late!”
I toss my phone in my pocket as I open my door to see the sun's reflection clearly through the large center balcony inside the dorm. Despite the building being almost 60 years old, I still found it modern-looking. There was a large center section in between two walls of rooms with windows enclosing the center. With all the windows they added, it would be a waste to have solid floors. Each side of rooms had about 5 feet until a railing where a 15 foot gap in the floor divided the rooms. On both my left and right were looping stairwells where it would loop back once before coming to the next floor.
I start sprinting to the stairwell to my left, knowing it would be a long way down, as they kept adding floors to the dorm without adding an elevator. I glance through pipe railing as I ran, and felt a creeping feeling of inferiority looking down 24 floors and knowing that I am who I was born. I can’t go up or down faster, and no matter how much I trained, after a year of these stairs, I have not improved in the slightest, and I know that even a four-story drop would definitely end my life, let alone 24.
I run down the stairs, my mind stuck in the mud of human experience. I was always the kind of person who wanted to do everything and know everything about anything. But I soon learned that you could only learn so many things before you couldn’t learn anymore or forget what you had learned.
I am jolted to the real world when a face suddenly appears walking up the stairs. A small woman with a pretty face and a sprinkle of nervousness bordered by golden brown hair that brushes her shoulders like the branches of a willow. I stumble a bit, reminding me I’m still going full speed down a flight of stairs. I try slowing myself by sliding my feet, but they slide right out from under me, and my head starts heading towards the ground.
I quickly push my legs off the railing to help right myself, but instead, I am sent flying sideways towards the woman down the flight of stairs. My eyes meet hers as I pass by her. She had beautiful, deep purple eyes, but my eyes were pulled lower down.
”Holy FU-“
Before I finish my comment, my head hits the railing with a short bank cut off in black. I start to feel again, and there is this bizarre feeling in my head; it's a mix of dizziness and other things. I hear a faint female voice, and the feeling in my head gets worse as I wish I would rather die than endure it more. The woman’s voice becomes louder as I can begin feeling my limbs crumpled under myself. I mumble to what I can only assume is, “Are you ok!?” With an “I’m fine” when I clearly am NOT.
After what feels like hours in my own personal hell, I feel my self-conscious coming back. I take a deep breath as I open my eyes and see the beautiful face of the lady who was coming up the stairs. Her short brown hair hangs over as she’s inches from my face, and it feels like our personal hideaway. I lift my head closer to hers, and our lips almost touch; then she sits up.
”Oh, good! You're okay!” she says, relieved.
I notice she’s sitting on her knees next to me on the platform to the stairs. She’s wearing a short black dress that I’ve only seen in movies, and I never thought anyone would actually wear one. Above it, she wears a dark blue suit, and her square glasses, which she picks up from the floor, tie it all together.
”You look beautiful,” I say without thinking
I slide myself up against the railing and bring my hand to my face to hide my embarrassment, and my fingertips feel wet; I pull my hand away and see some blood on my hands. Of course! I must have had a concussion; whywould I try to kiss someone I had just met and then comment on their look?
She jolts me out of my head.
”Oh, thank you. But we should worry about you.” It could have been my concussion, but I think I saw her look aside and cover herself, blushing.