Tuesday Morning

It's a calm Tuesday morning; the hours between the early birds and famished bellies. I am outside waiting for class where it’s eerily deserted except for my own famished belly roaring like a hungry lioness; I'm not much of an early bird in case you were wondering.  The mist of the fog, I notice, has draped over the campus like a shield, battling with the sun and its UV rays for dominance over the sky; looks like the fog is winning today.  A sudden chill lurking innocently behind the stillness of the trees prompts me to nuzzle my already frozen fingers in the warmth of my jean pockets.  As I let my hands find solace with the buried lint a lone skateboarder zooms past me suddenly.  The unmistakable sound of wheel and asphalt meeting in a vicious clash for speed cuts through the hushed campus like an ape on the loose. I can't help but jerk my head in its direction; I see a tall gangly freshman in a beanie happily resolute on his wooden board gliding effortlessly. "Take me with you, stranger; take me away from this monstrously silent emptiness." I say this telepathically, hoping he hears me; he doesn't.  He's long gone as fast as he appeared, and trailing behind him is the echo of his skateboard.  It hangs in the air like smog from a car exhaust then dissipates as if it never existed.  I unexpectedly feel alone. The feeling hovers over me for just a second, before it settles in between my soul and heart as if it too never existed.  I brush it off only when my seclusion is interrupted by a couple giggling on a nearby bench; by the way their lips passionately meet it looks like they're still on the honeymoon train; the phase in a relationship where silent glances hang in between like sweet little Clementine’s.  It's a tasteful mix of sweet and sour, and one bite is never enough.  Two years ago a sight like this would have me gagging on bitter resentment, but today I let myself vicariously indulge in their blossoming love; they seem cute. Aw, he just kissed her hand, and she's blushing; smooth move Mr. Operator, smooooth mooove! I fish for my phone and check the time;   only five minutes has lapsed since I dutifully took my post; a summersault of grumbling starts to coalesce at the pit of my stomach; ah, the day is young, and so is my appetite.  The tower bell emits galvanizing rings as a new hour starts.  The couple on the bench get up to leave, but I stand my ground as people begin to conglomerate out of their monotonous lectures.  All of them with their hands instinctively reaching for their phones probably to text furiously to God knows who.  The quiet that was, the one I took for granted, is no more.