The first time Harry saw Susan she was running out into the street after her dog, which Harry had just mauled with his car.
"Susan?" he said, getting out of the car. "Susan Jake, class of '89?"
Susan stared at him, incredulous. "Unless the next words out of your mouth are, 'Remember me? I'm the guy who left to go to vet school' I don't give a fuck how you know me, you might have just killed my dog!"
"Oh! Right." Harry crouched beside her, examining the terrier mix sprawled on the pavement. Its leg was bent at an awkward angle but its eyes were open, and it was breathing, so Harry passed it off as alright.
"So, really?" he said. "You don't remember me?"
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
Sophomore Ramblings
I'll probably give this up in a week, but I thought I'd give it a shot.
I found this in an old notebook from Sophomore year. I kinda liked it:
My Shakespeare professor wears no wedding ring. Her face is round and her hair is gray, pulled back everyday in the same low ponytail, parted to one side. Her large, round glasses make her always surprised, magnifying her make-up free eyes. When she smiles she looks afraid, and the show of emotion quickly falls from her face. She desperately uses her hands to make her points and emphasizes every few words by rising up on her toes. Her favorite word is "uh" and her voice shakes when she speaks, tapering off at the end of every sentence. She shows the most feeling when she reads the Bard aloud, and I wonder if she spent her younger days reciting lines in front of a mirror, her voice bouncing and echoing off the bathroom walls. I wonder if this is where she saw herself when she sat in a classrom just like this one, in this very building, with a breeze smelling of spring rustling the blinds and the late afternoon sun giving everything the perfect light. If she got bored in class and daydreamed, writing love letters she never found the courage to send. Maybe if she had sent them she would be far away from here, watching one of Shakespeare's plays performed at the Globe, making her daydreams real. Or maybe this is exactly where she dreamed she would be, speaking softly the words of Shakespeare as the sound of the church bell striking three reminds us there's only an hour left in class.
I found this in an old notebook from Sophomore year. I kinda liked it:
My Shakespeare professor wears no wedding ring. Her face is round and her hair is gray, pulled back everyday in the same low ponytail, parted to one side. Her large, round glasses make her always surprised, magnifying her make-up free eyes. When she smiles she looks afraid, and the show of emotion quickly falls from her face. She desperately uses her hands to make her points and emphasizes every few words by rising up on her toes. Her favorite word is "uh" and her voice shakes when she speaks, tapering off at the end of every sentence. She shows the most feeling when she reads the Bard aloud, and I wonder if she spent her younger days reciting lines in front of a mirror, her voice bouncing and echoing off the bathroom walls. I wonder if this is where she saw herself when she sat in a classrom just like this one, in this very building, with a breeze smelling of spring rustling the blinds and the late afternoon sun giving everything the perfect light. If she got bored in class and daydreamed, writing love letters she never found the courage to send. Maybe if she had sent them she would be far away from here, watching one of Shakespeare's plays performed at the Globe, making her daydreams real. Or maybe this is exactly where she dreamed she would be, speaking softly the words of Shakespeare as the sound of the church bell striking three reminds us there's only an hour left in class.
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