2010.10.08 Text 1 note

  1. Blue ink stains

      He presses the button to go up; the elevator opens immediately. With a dramatically overt sigh audible from miles away, the shaggy-haired, dirty-blond teenager steps inside. As soon as his red, seven-dollar Chuck Taylor knock-offs hit the elevator’s sticky floor, he quickly turns to his left, presses the button for the twelfth floor, leans himself into the nearest corner and crosses his arms. His face is tense, mouth in a slant, eyes focused downward. His only hope is that the elevator doesn’t make any stops on the way to his own—he wants to get back into the apartment as soon as he can.

      The days are seeming shorter and shorter, and time seems to be moving more and more speedily, and he is well aware that the essay assignments are piling up as he ponders the coming weekend, where he’ll find himself taking the longest drive he’s ever taken to give his mother away at her wedding, and he’s wondering about the friends who are going out to eat without him, and he can’t stop thinking about…

      The doors open, showing the familiar bulletin board. “WELCOME TO THE 12TH FLOOR” greets him once again, the letters conspicuously emblazoned in black construction paper in contrast with the bright red behind them. After a series of left turns and short strides passing other doors across a carpeted hallway, he pulls his school ID out from the right front pocket of his worn-in blue jeans. With one quick swipe of the ID down and up the door’s card reader, the door unlocks. He pushes it inward to the sounds of heavy gunfire and reminiscent conversation. One roommate is sitting on the cushioned chair facing the television with a video game controller in his hand, the other at the table with a laptop, speaking to a female friend via webcam. The third roommate is somewhere else, far away from the dorm, doing whatever it is he does.

      This is where everything tumbles into complete hoopla for that blond one we were looking at. Although, truth be told, he’s starting to feel a little excited about it.

      Despite his eyes growing gradually heavier, he’s got an uncontrollable urge to write. He sits himself down at his messy desk, opens up his laptop, and starts tapping away at the keyboard.