BECAUSE is painted in letters dripped dry and black across a mural. The vandalism obscures the face of one of the school founders. Which one, you can't really tell. I wouldn’t know his name anyway.
Assorted trash, in clusters: empty beer cups from some outdoor gathering, crumpled food-wrappers from the cafeteria, half-eaten burgers, gum, chewed and wadded into tiny balls stuck to the sides of things, small pools of spit.
I imagine being shrunk down and running frightened trough the giant debris, lined by towering blades of grass. Attacked by monster ants and having to avoid being unknowingly crushed by bus-sized sneakers.
I drink coffee from the medium-sized cup in my hands. It warms and seems to be the only thing that settles my stomach. It tastes like chalk.
I value mornings like these. Everything is vivid and in focus. Real is real.
The birds chirp. Regular-sized ants march, climbing regular-sized leaves of grass.
And I keep having this dream when I'm not asleep. It’s more like a hallucination, a waking nightmare in the background of my mind, where the entire campus lies in total disarray. All the old brick buildings engulfed in flames, like a fire that takes a home from you. Bodies in the streets, twitching as life escapes them.
A total scene of carnage everywhere I look, placed like a transparent-overlay on top of reality. This is the future but I’m thinking it also could be the present. The past.
I wonder if I’m losing my mind or finally learning to see.
And during all this death and destruction, I take in the panorama slowly and smile. I’ll forget to mention this to Loomis later at the appointment I’ll probably miss.