70 Degrees in the Mod Yard
Recalling summer days, he sits at the picnic table eating food from the dining hall with his roommate. “I just wish it was like this all the time, man.” His words are muffled by grilled chicken in his mouth. He wipes a hand on his athletic tee shirt and ruffles his hair. He turns his face toward the sun, his open mouth chewing almost rhythmic. “We should skip class, like its been so dark all year, I feel so different when it’s bright.” He pauses, “we should drink!” His roommate laughs, the suggestion is ridiculous, but his roommate lets him be inspired by the sun. He hunches his back, his muscles surfacing beneath the thin layer of fabric. He stretches his arms across the table toward his roommate; the sun illuminates flecks of blonde in his hair. He snaps up when his roommate starts to get up from the table. He watches with is brow furrowed has his companion reaches down to grab his bag and return to class. “I’ll see you later man,” he says. As his roommate walks away the man groans loudly and lowers himself to lie on his back across the length of the bench, soaking up the sun.
She paces in front of the dryers, a bundle of wet clothes in hand. Her blonde hair is in a messy topknot. She pushes the wisps of it away from her face by jerking her head from left to right. She wont be able to get them away until she’s able to use her hands. They are occupied until a dryer frees up. She’d given her washer away to another student before realizing all of the dryers were being used. She sighs loudly and leans against a far wall. Just when she starts tapping her foot, a man walks in. She perks up. He’s only there to pick up the laundry basket he’d left. Soon after, a woman walks in, with an empty laundry basket: A sure sign of someone who is planning on unloading a dryer. She opens a dryer and starts putting clothes in her basket. The woman who is waiting stands behind her. The woman unloading her dryer stops suddenly and starts feeling the clothes in her basket, they’re still wet. She loads them back into the dryer, shrugs at the woman who is waiting, and restarts the drying cycle. The woman who was waiting marches to the washers dumps her clothing on top of one and walks back to the dryers. She opens a door, at what seems to be random, and removes all of the clothes inside and transfers them to a table. She drops a tank top and underwear on the floor on the way. She picks them up and throws them with the rest before putting her clothes in and starting her cycle.
The Corner of the Elevator
She’s the last to enter, out of breath and thankful. She pivots herself and backs into the front corner of the elevator. Because of her positioning she’s called on to push buttons for people. A few, though, reach in front or behind her to push the buttons themselves. On the second floor, a man enters and recognizes his friend in the back of the elevator. “What’s up man? How come I didn’t see you this weekend?” He reaches over three people the center of the elevator to loudly high-five his friend. When he pulls his arm back his elbow grazes the woman in the corner’s forehead. She flinches and ducks out of the way. She’s hit lightly. He man at the front of the elevator makes eye contact with her and turns back to his friend and begins talking loudly again. She rolls her eyes and leans back, her large backpack in between her body and the wall. She’s staring at the numbers indicating the floors we pass until we get to the fifth, hers. She says excuse me and the man talking to his friend doesn’t move. He continues his conversation as the woman uses her forearm to shove at his waist, she ducks under his armpit, her backpack knocks his arm off the wall where is leaning. As she steps out and the doors close, the man in the front says, “wow, she was rude.”