3 O'clock Class

3 O’clock Class

Desere dragged her feet along the curved pathway. She had no one to walk with as she made the journey from her 2 o’clock class to her 3 o’clock. Tuesday and Thursday were the days from hell—and for one reason only. The lecture hall she walked into sloped downward, with rows and rows of arched tables facing the projector screens. Massive black leather seats lined the arched tables, and they should have been inviting, but she couldn’t enjoy their splendid comfort. She chose a seat, third row from the back, eyes searching. Where was he?

Setting down her backpack, she began to pull her notebook and pencil out, not looking at what she was doing. The projector screen had the topic of lecture for the day: “Understanding the Brain”.  She was starting to think he wasn’t there when suddenly a student that was standing sat down, and then she saw it. It drew her eyes to it, distracting her from everything else. She completely focused on the image in front of her. It was the epitome of ugly, yet strangely enchanting. This thing on the back of his neck haunted her. She wanted to look away, to concentrate on the words coming out of the professor’s mouth, but she could not stray her eyes from it.

As soon as the clock said 3:50, she left. Standing straight up, she walked up the three steps and out the door, not looking back. She was done with class for the day, and it was time to go home. Desere didn’t live far away, but even the twenty minute walk bore at her mind. Why did this thing bother her so much? She tried not to remember the image now burned in her mind but focus on the homework she had for the evening: constructing organic molecules out of little colored balls. At least she had something to distract her mind.

Desere tried to settle into her evening routine. She enjoyed knitting, and each night sat in front of her computer screen, watching Gray’s Anatomy and knitting the gold scarf she planned to give to her mother for Christmas. Knitting was monotonous and she enjoyed watching the characters in the show obsess over their relationships. How petty it seemed. After a while, she made a cup of chamomile tea to calm her before bed.

As she drifted into the unconscious, Desere tried not the think of the image that tugged at her mind. That night, she dreamt of him. She was sitting in class, just as she did earlier that day, and he stood up and turned to look at her. It was like she had walked from inside a dark theatre into the bright sunshine of midday. She was staring at the most beautiful human she had ever seen, and he was staring back at her. The expression on his face was one she had only ever seen when her father looked at her mother. An expression of complete and senseless love.