Leaves, Seasons, and Dead Trees (BxB)

2. - A Familiar Face

"Hope was a letter I never could send.
Well, love was a country we couldn't defend."

- "Big Black Car" by Gregory Alan Isakov -

*****

Samuel

My eyes immediately dart to the clock on my phone.

7:54 AM.

Frustration surges through me as I furiously scroll through my group chat, desperately hoping for a message that will lead me in the right direction. But alas, my hopes are dashed as I realize no one has bothered to reach out to me personally. "Just my luck," I mutter under my breath, annoyed at myself for not paying attention to the earlier messages. With a reluctant sigh, I start scanning the chat for any mention of "Literature," determined to find the information I need to locate my first class.

And there it is.

"Oh, the right wing," I whisper to myself, adjusting my path accordingly. As I step further into Everest Harmony Hall, its true grandeur unfolds before my eyes. The interior looms larger than my initial recollection. Upon entering, I find myself in a student lounge adorned with vibrant artworks, a fusion of contemporary styles and timeless beauty. It's not the most spacious of spaces, but it comfortably accommodates a sufficient number of students.

Continuing my journey towards the right wing, I'm captivated by the embellishments adorning the halls. Glass vases and intricate Greek key cornice carvings catch my eye, adding a touch of elegance to the modern surroundings. Despite my momentary enchantment with the college atmosphere, I remind myself that the academic life ahead won't be all glamour and glitz. High school fantasies fade away as I refocus on my mission, determined to reach my destination: classroom 1.1.3.

After what feels like an eternity, I reach the classroom door. "Finally," I mutter under my breath as I carefully swing the wooden door open, letting out a sigh of relief.

But, to my surprise, the classroom is devoid of lives.

"What?" And doubts begin to creep in.

Do I remember wrong? Did I see it wrong? Did I read the wrong message?

I instinctively reach for my phone, frantically searching for the keyword "Literature." With a quick tap of the search button, the word illuminates on the group chat. My heart sinks as I realize my error. Intro to Literature is scheduled for tomorrow morning, not today.

"You gotta be kidding me," I groan in frustration. As a knot tightens in my stomach, anxiety takes hold. I scroll through the group chat, discovering the cruel twist fate has played on me. The course I should have attended today is Writing and Composition, located on the third floor in room 3.1.4., on the left wing of the building. And to add insult to injury, there is even a message stating that the lecture starts at 7.55.

When I check the time on my phone, it is already 7.57.

"I'm late..." I mutter, a sense of resignation washing over me. I tuck my phone back into my pocket and step out of the empty classroom. Visions of the other students from my class, the ones who ignored my pleas for help in the group chat, flash through my mind. I can almost see their judgmental gazes as they pretend they never saw my messages seeking guidance to find the classroom. The image of the instructor, whose profile picture on WhatsApp depicts an angry ox, berating me for my tardiness in front of the whole class; haunts me.

These thoughts...

These thoughts torment my mind. My hands tremble as I make my way through the corridors and into the lobby where the main staircase is located. My breathing becomes shallower with each step, and the overwhelming images intensify. As I reach the student lounge near the stairs, I look to my left and notice a stream of students filling the entrance, likely heading to their classes in a matter of minutes. As their faces draw nearer to mine, I suddenly feel the furs on my tail stand on end, and a shiver sends down my spine. When I meet their gazes, I can't help but question the intent behind their piercing stares. Why are they looking at me like that?