Back to High School

Drayer. First floor on the end of the hall, to the right. When the days are young and the excitement of everything new is upon us, the air in the room is light. The room houses a new group of friendships and the possibility of more. As time ticks they learn about each other, laughing and wondering and the air in the room smells like cheese dip and comradery. Two have a spark, and the air crackles with optimism. The fluidity of relationships ebbs and flows around the room and the air becomes a familiar feel. This does not last though, when the weekend comes. Saturday night the air is filled with anticipation, but also hesitation and a hint of suspicion. Sunday, tension. Monday, question. Tuesday, confrontation. The air of the room is thick with accusation and emotion. The room has become a silent battleground of subtle warfare and forced smiles. The magic dissipates and all that is left is an empty room. All that is left is a feeling of absence and an empty bag of tortilla chips.