Tuesday, September 30, 2008

jamie and eric-28-trying to keep names straight

Just outside the cafeteria there was a glowing white lobby. There didn’t seem to be many people passing through at this time of day. What time of day was it? Light beaming in through glass doors and a couple of window told him late afternoon. Late afternoon. Eric took a deep breath, telling himself to calm down. He still knew where Jaime was. Did he?!
Eric lightning-fast checked his perception of the constant nudge. The nudge that he often took for granted. It was like wearing clothing. It was like feeling your breath expand into your lungs. But the nudge was there. So high up. But it made since now, Eric saw that the exits from the lobby were labeled ‘South Tower’ and ‘North Tower.’
The tower entrances were on opposite sides of the lobby, but all Eric could tell was that Jamie was up. So far up that Eric couldn’t feel any difference when he walked towards the entrance of one tower and back towards the other. Catching the curious glance of a miserly old man in warm black robes, Eric just bolted up the tower.

* * *
Master Graves turned to his assistant, a sturdy last year student struggling under a pile of books, “That was young Journeyman Eric, wasn’t it?”
The student, not really able to see and in the middle of a explaining the problem he was having with his research, obligedly responded, “Yes, I believe it was.”
“Huh,” Master Graves remarked to himself, absent-mindedly twisting the end of his moustache, “I didn’t know he had business in the North Tower. He lives in the West Tower, does he not?”
“I’m sure it was West, Master.”

* * *

The late afternoon light was still bright and Dahlia was fascinated by the shadow of the pencil tip striking the paper as she wrote her essay. The words flowed onto her paper effortlessly. Her professor only wanted to hear his opinion recited back to him, although that wasn’t quite how he had phrased the assignment. The tapping of the pencil tip as it came down was also satisfying.
There was a commotion at the front door entered into the periphery of Dahlia’s awareness. She felt dreamy though and could only muster up enough focus for the work before her.
”Class,” Professor Turntable cleared his throat before continuing, “it appears we have a new student. Novice- oh what was it again.”
Dahlia brought her attention forward. The office administrator stood in the doorway, clearly waiting to get back to her busy schedule. In front of her stood the boy that Professor Turntable was addressing. Dahlia’s jaw dropped. It looked like a younger Eric. Granted he was a good bit shorter, and scrawny where Eric had an athletic build. The bitter taste of used eraser overwhelmed Dahlia and she hastily removed the pencil from her mouth. She amazed herself. Certainly such an unpleasant habit wouldn’t stick.

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