Wednesdays were always his longest days. Eight o'clock sharp, he was to report to his first class. It made waking up in the morning much more difficult to know that he would again be sleeping within the hour, although this time with his face buried in a Calculus book instead of a pillow.

The unique part about every morning's routine was the walk up to the building where classes were held. The parking lot was multi-tiered, and offered a brisk morning walk, or a tiring hike to boredom, depending on his mood. This morning was like a march to doom.

The key was turned in the ignition, and the car laid silent. He picked up his books and folders, sighed, and reached for the latch on the door. Stepping outside, a smattering of drizzling rain laid on his styled hair, and he laughed at this sudden misfortune. A woman, who appeared as a teenage mother, walked by and glanced his way, forming a dissaproving smirk on her lips under the hood of her parka.

Locking his car, he began shuffling his feet forward on the cracked pavement of the parking lot. A strong wind began to blow as he neared the end of his parking tier. He was wearing sandals today, even though the cold was quite bitter, and the wind was tingling between his toes.

There was no walkway or sidewalk set for his trek to the entrance way. He preferred to take the road less traveled, both for the metaphorical superiority it gave him, and because he could avoid the many adults who hung outside, smoking away their worries about yesterday's exam. He knew it never helped. He had tried that before.

The dew mixed with rainwater on the grass, and made his feet wet. It was a vigorous cold; uncomfortable, yet inspiring him to walk faster to get inside. "Half-way there," he thought, taking notice that he could see his breath in the air.

Within a few feet of the first sign of a walkway, he dropped his pen. Sighing yet again, he stooped over to pick it up. As he bent down, he studied the blades of dead grass underneath his field of view. They all stared back, glistening and taunting him to join them in winter's embrace. Picking up his pen, he stuffed it into his pocket and continued on.

Finally, he reached the Door. Gathering up the strength it would take to pull open that same Door was a task he tried to avoid, but it had to be done. He pulled, and as he remembered Newton's Third Law, he felt his body being pulled inward quickly towards the Door.

He looked up, panicking, scanning the area around him to see if anyone noticed that he had crashed into the locked Door. Composing himself, he looked up, and saw a pink sheet attached to the inside of the glass. His eyes focused on the Helvetica print on the sheet.


It started to rain much harder on that walk back down to the car. His feet were freezing now, soaked and tired from his excursion to the Door, and the cuffs of his khakis were wet. He sighed, unlocked the car, and started the engine. It was just another Wednesday.