This is Day 20 of #MarchusAnnus challange. Continuing On the Edge of Sight. Links to the other parts are available at the bottom of this post.
Morning came quickly and, for Price, and the other students in his dorm, abruptly. Doors were heard slamming throughout the entire dorm. First one, then two more in immediate succession. A fourth crash of a door told Price that, whoever it was, they were getting closer the hall his dorm was on.
Price threw on some clothes as quickly as he could, with concern for his look. He felt he should always look professional, no matter the circumstance. Everything was already laid out the night before. He put on a pair of straight grey slacks and a light blue shirt. He tossed a tie and grey jacket on the back of the chair at his desk, just four feet from the bed. His argyle socks rested over the foot of the bed, and his shows sat on the floor below them.
Price was curious about all the commotion in the dorm. Cautiously, he went to the door and carefully turned the knob. He opened the door with, both, haste and control. Peeking his head out Price looked right, no one was there. He turned his head left. There at the end of the hall was a young woman, head down, leaning forward in a full sprint. The woman was like a freight train, stomping loudly as she went by.
Price’s focus followed the woman as she ran by. That is when he noticed that residents had been just as curious as him. He looked over at his neighbor across the hall. “What was that about?” Price was a bit troubled by what he saw. “It looked like Wendy, but I haven’t seen here in weeks.” Price, being new to the university, had no clue what his dorm-mate was talking about, so he shrugged and went back to finish getting ready for the day.
There was a class to attend later that day. Price packed his bag with supplies and the requisite text book. Then put on his argyle socks and slipped into his leather shoes. While tying his shoes, he thought, “I’ve ran into a bunch of odd folks here, in just a couple days.” He didn’t pursue the thought any further, and proceeded to open the bottom draw at his desk.
Inside the drawer was his personal stash of English muffins. English muffins and jam had been his favorite breakfast since he was a young child when his mother would make them for him. He pulled the bag of muffins out, opened it, and grabbed the next one in the pack. Grabbed his bag off the desk and headed out of his room.
Price stopped in the dorm’s common area to toast his English muffin. The dorm had a kitchen with a decent compliment of appliances and utensils. The toaster was completely free so he split the muffin by hand and dropped in the two halves; starting it at almost, the exact instant the muffins hit the trays. Just as quickly as he started the toaster he had grabbed the jam and a knife to spread it.
While Price waited for his muffins to reach his desired state of well done, he could overhear a group of students who were standing on the other end of the kitchen. It was clear they were talking about the events of this morning. The exchange was shallow, but informative.
“Did you hear?” The first asked.
“Yeah, I know. That was Wendy.” Said the second student vapidly.
“Wait, you don’t mean Tillerman?” The third asked with a confused expression.
“But I heard she burned out and left River Valley.” The second interjected
“Apparently not. Becky said she had seen her last week, but she was acting funny, like she was on drugs.” The first girl gossiped
“Ha, that’s rich, the goody-two-shoes, bookworm, on drugs? That’s impossible.” The second said with a spoiled grin.
“That was rude, but you are right, I never saw her as a partier.” The first jumped in.
The toaster finished with the ring of a tiny bell and the pop of the mechanism. Price didn’t notice, he was listening too closely to the conversation.
“Well, she looked like she was on something serious this morning.” The third flatly stated.
“You’re right about that. Maybe she did burn out.” the first shrugged.
The second girl in the group realized that Price was listening in. She gave him a dirty look, a single raised eyebrow, narrowed eyes, her nose curled up and the right corner of her mouth raised slightly. Price noticed the conversation had halted and looked over to see the face of disgust.
Deciding that he had over stepped his bounds, Price grabbed his English muffin, lightly burning his fingers on the toaster. He slapped some jam on the muffin, just as quick as he pulled them out. Put the jam back in the fridge, and threw the knife into the dishwasher. When he finally looked up at the clock on the wall he saw that it was already twelve minutes to seven, his start time at the library.
With a flash he ran out of the dorms, headed directly for the library.
There have been 20 day(s) since the last non-creation day. This marks 20 consecutive day(s) of posting for #MarchusAnnus. #UnusAnnus #MomentoMori. Check out UnusAnnus and subscribe to their channel before it’s too late.
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The Original A.J. Young 