career pathsPosted: February 26, 2009
The stale taste of recycled air pours out from vents scattered seemingly randomly throughout the buildings. The vents interjected otherwise bland ceiling tiles. An architect would be able to define the specifics. Optimum dissipation of an artifically cooled wind. Air flowing out like a sine function into the often crowded building. I only know it as air conditioning. It seems to cool the soul into a melancholy state, when all the soul wants to do is regress into thought. A catalyst, maybe. I take three steps forward, each louder than the previous one. My shoes are now uncomfortable, the insoles worn out from countless steps. The sound of my footsteps, and only my footsteps, echoes throughout the hall. A mathematician would be able to plot the increasing amplitude of the sound.
My coat feels havy on my shoulders. There’s a striking pain in the area of my left lung, exacerbated by my continued efforts to slow my breathing through labored deep breaths. If I were a doctor, I would be able to diagnose my condition, and whether or not I was in need of some sort of attention. I don’t quite care. Chatter rumbles out from the various doors that encompass the hallway that I now found myself in. The sound of laughter trickles from a crack at the bottom of the door adjacent to me. I ignore it, and continue forward to a destination that has yet to arrive in my mind. The stale air begins to flow again. There’s an odd feeling of melancholy driving my thoughts. The coat feels heavier on my shoulders. The only reason it is there is to shield me from an artificial wind. A creaking sound emanated from the vents, and the low rumling that recycled the stagnant air began to slowly stop. Five minutes, and it stopped completely. I stood still for those five minutes. I kept the coat on. A psychologist would be able to explain the reasoning behind my actions.
A plexiglass door leads me to the outside world. It feels lonely. Gusts of wind tousle my hair and further dampened my spirits. I zipped up the coat, the collar of it now up. I continued forward, embarking on a journey to a destination that had yet to be determined. Five steps. A hand grabs mine halfway through the sixth. It’s soft. Smaller. Feminine. It exudes warmth as I now grasp it. A scientist would be able to explain why she was warm to the touch. I only knew it as love.