10 A.M flashed the clock. It made its clamorous voice heard, as it did every Tuesday and Thursday, awaking the quiet room and beckoning someone’s response. It was a reminder unwelcome, for the very sound dispels the lazy sea someone might have been sailing, or the vacation of mind that dreamers are often privileged to each night. Into the world they are born.
“Oh god…” he muttered aloud, remembering the unchallenged assignment lying dormant at his desk. The thought of it unsettled him and loomed above. He chose not to think of it, and moved it slowly to the back of his mind. “Just sleep in” she whispered faintly, still wrapped in the warmness of her blanket “It’s cold out. We can make pancakes and orange juice” The oil burner of their college apartment was broken and the air was gnawing at their feet. He began to look at her in a way to appear as if considering, for she had not stayed in his bed before, and he took care not to deny her company. But thinking of his slew of attendance mishaps he knew it was impossible.
Off went the covers and “on” went the coffee machine. The shower was heavenly. He stayed long, not moving or washing much but just soaking. There was wonder about weather classes would be cancelled (he had not chanced opening a drapery; light is most disturbing to the sleeping) or whether she would soon join him. Suggesting she lock up “whenever,” he bid her good morning with a smile, and quietly--as quiet as can be--closed the door and walked to school.
The weather around him was dreadful. The sky was gray, the snow was slushed to a soupy brown, and the wind was uncompromising. But in all of this he remained undaunted by the relentless malice. He suffered the spell men often forgo after a night of restlessness, the carelessness of attitude, a gait of increased confidence, even a wide grin that seemed out of place in that inhospitable environment. A rout that seemed automatic, the student hardly took notice of the things around him. There was a crow sitting in company on the limb of a barren tree. There was a great conifer tree standing adjacent clad with winters snow. There was the wind sweeping across a desert of white. There was a half toppled snowman. There were people dressed as if on some expedition to the artic, with backpacks of supplies and books for recording scientific findings. All of this was beneath him as he strolled to class with a whimsical candor. That is, until above him, loomed the unmistakable edifice of academia. The fool’s ego took was soon defeated, and his forgotten assignment emblazoned his mind afire.
Foolishly unaware, it had turned out that the assignment had counted for more than the boy had expected. He failed that class, and in turn was forced to drop out of school. He tried to become a ski bum in Utah, but failed at that also. The end.
