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Literature Text
I see him coming up the stairs behind me, all at once heavy and light on his feet with a sort of bewildered, joyful gait. He is almost always out of breath. I think it’s because his heart beats seven times too fast.
Stairs like these always scare me – the ones with the holes between each step. I can’t help but feel I’ll somehow slip, morph shape to fit through the gap, and plummet into what has magically transformed into a vast canyon of my stairwell doom. I get the same thing with rickety railings and it serves as a good reminder of my insanity.
He’s reflected in the glass of the window at the top of the stairs and he’s gaining on me. Big black boots. Thump. Thump. Ka-Bunk. Clearly he doesn’t share my paranoia. Reaching me, he exhales his lung into my ear.
“Hey”
“Hi” I mutter, suddenly aware of the length of my skirt. He’s lost a lot of hair since Wednesday, and I wonder what could have motivated him to change it. For some reason he smiles, and I tug the corners of my skirt down in what I hope is a friendly, nonchalant manner.
Two days earlier, I had been picking up my papers after class and upon hearing a mild crash and an “ow”, became aware of a presence behind me.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Go for it” I reply, without looking up.
“I was just wondering... Uh..Do you have a boyfriend?” I stopped and looked up at his eager baby orangutan eyes. It was probably the red lipstick that did it; he always liked my lips. As far as I’m concerned, they’re useful for eating and a necessary facial feature, but he still tells me off for licking my fingers after eating cheddar fries. I imagine they would have been bent into an ‘o’ of surprise at this particular question.
“Actually I do, yeah” I can understand his not believing me with this. Even I can’t seem to get used to the idea of having a wonderful, penis-bearing partner that I actually love and am committed to, and it’s highly probable that my own happy disbelief would pass like a virus. As I started walking towards the door, he appeared in front of me again, and I began to wonder at the scope of his teleportation abilities, until he tripped again, while attempting to walk backwards. He has this distinctive way of swinging his arms around as he moves, and I’ve come to the conclusion that all his joints operate in the manner of a bobble-head toy.
“Do you think you could let me know if that changes or anything?” he asks, and I can’t help but laugh. It seems like the strangest follow-up question, but apparently it makes perfect sense to him.
“Uh, I really don’t think it will… but sure?” I could see the change on his face the second the comprehension hit. Its one of the things I love about him. Not just an open book- he’s like a blown-up open comic book. Every molecule of his body appeared to slump, and my flattered emotions turned into guilty ones. Soon however he was back to normal, and followed me like a puppy out of the building, with feet that move quicker than most peoples without making him any faster.
The door at the top of the stairs is locked, and we are waiting for the teacher to find a new place for the box. In my head, I go through lines of Dr. Seuss.
Fox Socks Box Knox. Knox in box. Fox in socks. Knox on fox in socks in box. Socks on Knox and Knox in box. Fox in socks on box on Knox. If I’m the fox, then who is Knox, and where’s the box? Wait, I don’t have socks…
“So, you write poems right?” says Knox.
“Yeah, I guess” replies the fox, slightly confused as to why she’s now a children’s book character. “I don’t know if it’s any good or not. What did you write?”
“A short story. It’s pretty cool… I think” he says. I wonder how someone can look so clumsy when they’re just standing still.
Our teacher returns, and proceeds to question my suitor about the purpose of his haircut.
“Well I asked out this girl” he replies “but she said she had a boyfriend, which I don’t think is true” at which point he shakes his head towards me in one swift and slightly alarming movement and makes a sort of coughing noise. My reaction is complicated, as my facial features try to combine an array of emotions ranging from intense amusement to exasperation, and I end up biting my lip. “So yeah, I thought I’d try a new look”
The teacher becomes quickly excited at what he imagines as a soap opera unfolding before his eyes, and demands that the story be written. I shift my toes in my shoes, and remember that it’s Friday.
As we make our way back towards the stairs, the gazelle trots up beside me to reassure me that I wasn’t actually the reason he cut his hair, and wasn’t it funny how the teacher believed him? I explain that “honestly, I really do have a boyfriend” and he nods with such extreme determination that I worry about his neck snapping.
“He’s lucky. Your boyfriend I mean. ” he states.
I laugh and smile and feel more attractive, thinking that he could make a very interesting friend in time and that I ought to give him my email at some point. A less conscious portion of my brain sighs: the stairs are even worse on the way down.
Stairs like these always scare me – the ones with the holes between each step. I can’t help but feel I’ll somehow slip, morph shape to fit through the gap, and plummet into what has magically transformed into a vast canyon of my stairwell doom. I get the same thing with rickety railings and it serves as a good reminder of my insanity.
He’s reflected in the glass of the window at the top of the stairs and he’s gaining on me. Big black boots. Thump. Thump. Ka-Bunk. Clearly he doesn’t share my paranoia. Reaching me, he exhales his lung into my ear.
“Hey”
“Hi” I mutter, suddenly aware of the length of my skirt. He’s lost a lot of hair since Wednesday, and I wonder what could have motivated him to change it. For some reason he smiles, and I tug the corners of my skirt down in what I hope is a friendly, nonchalant manner.
Two days earlier, I had been picking up my papers after class and upon hearing a mild crash and an “ow”, became aware of a presence behind me.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Go for it” I reply, without looking up.
“I was just wondering... Uh..Do you have a boyfriend?” I stopped and looked up at his eager baby orangutan eyes. It was probably the red lipstick that did it; he always liked my lips. As far as I’m concerned, they’re useful for eating and a necessary facial feature, but he still tells me off for licking my fingers after eating cheddar fries. I imagine they would have been bent into an ‘o’ of surprise at this particular question.
“Actually I do, yeah” I can understand his not believing me with this. Even I can’t seem to get used to the idea of having a wonderful, penis-bearing partner that I actually love and am committed to, and it’s highly probable that my own happy disbelief would pass like a virus. As I started walking towards the door, he appeared in front of me again, and I began to wonder at the scope of his teleportation abilities, until he tripped again, while attempting to walk backwards. He has this distinctive way of swinging his arms around as he moves, and I’ve come to the conclusion that all his joints operate in the manner of a bobble-head toy.
“Do you think you could let me know if that changes or anything?” he asks, and I can’t help but laugh. It seems like the strangest follow-up question, but apparently it makes perfect sense to him.
“Uh, I really don’t think it will… but sure?” I could see the change on his face the second the comprehension hit. Its one of the things I love about him. Not just an open book- he’s like a blown-up open comic book. Every molecule of his body appeared to slump, and my flattered emotions turned into guilty ones. Soon however he was back to normal, and followed me like a puppy out of the building, with feet that move quicker than most peoples without making him any faster.
The door at the top of the stairs is locked, and we are waiting for the teacher to find a new place for the box. In my head, I go through lines of Dr. Seuss.
Fox Socks Box Knox. Knox in box. Fox in socks. Knox on fox in socks in box. Socks on Knox and Knox in box. Fox in socks on box on Knox. If I’m the fox, then who is Knox, and where’s the box? Wait, I don’t have socks…
“So, you write poems right?” says Knox.
“Yeah, I guess” replies the fox, slightly confused as to why she’s now a children’s book character. “I don’t know if it’s any good or not. What did you write?”
“A short story. It’s pretty cool… I think” he says. I wonder how someone can look so clumsy when they’re just standing still.
Our teacher returns, and proceeds to question my suitor about the purpose of his haircut.
“Well I asked out this girl” he replies “but she said she had a boyfriend, which I don’t think is true” at which point he shakes his head towards me in one swift and slightly alarming movement and makes a sort of coughing noise. My reaction is complicated, as my facial features try to combine an array of emotions ranging from intense amusement to exasperation, and I end up biting my lip. “So yeah, I thought I’d try a new look”
The teacher becomes quickly excited at what he imagines as a soap opera unfolding before his eyes, and demands that the story be written. I shift my toes in my shoes, and remember that it’s Friday.
As we make our way back towards the stairs, the gazelle trots up beside me to reassure me that I wasn’t actually the reason he cut his hair, and wasn’t it funny how the teacher believed him? I explain that “honestly, I really do have a boyfriend” and he nods with such extreme determination that I worry about his neck snapping.
“He’s lucky. Your boyfriend I mean. ” he states.
I laugh and smile and feel more attractive, thinking that he could make a very interesting friend in time and that I ought to give him my email at some point. A less conscious portion of my brain sighs: the stairs are even worse on the way down.
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to clarify:
my creative writing class had a box where we were to pick up our reading for the week, and drop off our assignments. assignments had to be in by friday afternoon, to give people the rest of the class time to pick them up and read them before class on monday. as a creative writing class, we would read and review each other's work.
this box was kept in the english department, outside the professor's office, which was up the stairs and behind a door.
on this particular day, when me and the other character had to drop off our work, not long after class had started, the door was locked. The teacher, who had been outside smoking, was summoned to help us come up with a new plan.
Naturally, this followed an incident from the previous class, where the young gentleman had attempted to ask me out.
Towards the end of the class, for our last assignment, we all had to write about this young gentleman, as he was a very interesting and humorous character, and also very lovable. Our goal was to capture the essence of his character, and make an interesting piece.
Here, I attempted to illustrate not only his quirks, but also my own, as a way of hinting at the friendship that did indeed develop.
my creative writing class had a box where we were to pick up our reading for the week, and drop off our assignments. assignments had to be in by friday afternoon, to give people the rest of the class time to pick them up and read them before class on monday. as a creative writing class, we would read and review each other's work.
this box was kept in the english department, outside the professor's office, which was up the stairs and behind a door.
on this particular day, when me and the other character had to drop off our work, not long after class had started, the door was locked. The teacher, who had been outside smoking, was summoned to help us come up with a new plan.
Naturally, this followed an incident from the previous class, where the young gentleman had attempted to ask me out.
Towards the end of the class, for our last assignment, we all had to write about this young gentleman, as he was a very interesting and humorous character, and also very lovable. Our goal was to capture the essence of his character, and make an interesting piece.
Here, I attempted to illustrate not only his quirks, but also my own, as a way of hinting at the friendship that did indeed develop.
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