The Walk

I walk. They walk. We all walk.

And it’s all we do.

We just walk.

Every single day: to classes, to work, to libraries, to stores, to labs, uphill, downhill, morning, evening, day and night, home.

Walk.

I’m walking through the same parking lot today and it already means something different.

It’s not like it used to be, when I first walked these steps. When amber maple leaves rustled the floors and the slightest of rain would puncture their crisp bodies. When strong winds would make the hood of my windbreaker flap against the back of my jacket, and my backpack was the sole armour to keep me warm.

These trees, until yesterday mere branches stripped of their leaves, suddenly look like they’re sprouting buds. Cars, once snow covered, now gleam – and the clear blue sky paints landscapes in their windshields.

And it seems like maybe an era has passed already.

I don’t know why today’s air feels warmer than yesterday’s.

Nor do I know why it looks like every single soul living in this neighbourhood is walking the streets today.

The bridge seems a bit hard to walk by on; I’m late, but I don’t like overstepping. But sometimes there’s just no other way to walk.

And so I do.

And I look up at the clock tower; it reminds me of how late I am to class today. It reminds me of how late I am to class every day. It reminds me that tomorrow this time will cease to exist. It reminds me that somewhere, someone is conscientiously waiting for a professor to walk into class at the strike of the hour. And it reminds me of someone who’s thinking of an excuse to skip class.

I absentmindedly cross the sidewalk (the walk signal’s screaming red!) and downhill comes this guy on his skateboard, oh-so-coolly swerving around the corner and landing on the opposite side of the street.

Summer’s here -and he’s here to prove it, nothing anyone can say’s going to make him put on his shirt.

Not in this heat!

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