365 Writing · Stories

Summer Blues

[As I’m super busy this week plus today is the 65th day of my writing, I decided to bust out an old story intro I had written back in 2011! Crazy. Perhaps I’ll write more of it sometime. It’s a piece that was inspired by the anime Haruhi Suzumiya. I’m sure it’s not very great but it’s a good throwback for me personally.]

It is common knowledge that one who is single is either a player or desperately maladjusted socially. The only exception to this being a limbo in between relationships through this binary rule still applies in the minds of the general public though often times less in a concussed state than a directed mindset. Regardless the idea that neither of these might be right may be something people think of externally and often might even verbalize it is genuinely the rare individual that would not believe them in their inner being.

This frustration was rising in my mind while I tried to concentrate on the reading of the book in front of me. When this all began it was somewhat of a hot day, hot being mostly an understatement in my mind as the lazy fan whirling above my head, and the head of my co-leader, Lydia, in the writing club did nothing to relieve the heat.

Frustrated, I turned a few pages of the book I had been trying to read for the past fifteen minutes, Had it only been that long? Looking at how much farther I had to go to be done with the chapter and fulfill me homework reading for the day.

This was not proving to be a good day; neither myself nor my counterpart in the club, had expected to have many attendees during summer classes but to her insistence, we came to this room each day hoping someone would drop by. It was beginning to be tiring. The air conditioning of my dorm sounded more pleasant than the annex clubroom we had been relegated to.

Glancing over at Lydia I saw that she was reading as intently as ever, not even my unintentional and intentional groans of discomfort and frustration had stirred her. I knew they wouldn’t, nothing short of flat out addressing her would cause her to look up once she was in the zone as she currently was in… Tale of Two Cities? I think that’s what the cover said. How she bent the cover made it both annoying and hard to read the title on the spine.

Deciding that reading my own book was impossible at the moment I placed my feet back firmly on the floor from their former place on the table and stuck the M&M wrapper that I had been lazily using as a bookmark in the place I had last been, trying not to think it was only ten pages in.

“I’m going to go and get something to drink, you want something?”

Lydia looked up from her book with a glazed expression.

“I think I’m good, thanks.” With that, she returned to her reading. I doubted the world coming to an end would have fazed her much; nothing seemed to even when she wasn’t reading.

Lumbering out the room I began to pace down the hall in the direction of the coffee shop. Not caring particularly for how long it would take me I was lost in the place between too many thoughts and a form of concentration, both somehow cancel each other out and any relevant thoughts that I might have had in the next four minutes it took me to walk to the coffee shop, only a vague strew of emotional frustration remained with me.

Unlike our clubroom the coffee shop always had people in it, maybe by cultural norms for studying in a coffee shop, or just the fact that you could get a cold drink, there was about an average of seven to eight people in line at any given time. Glancing around the room for anyone I would know, or at least someone vaguely attractive was the most exciting activity I could do while I waited for the other people ahead of me to somehow take several minutes each to order the simplest things.

Before I go too far in this narrative, however, I’d like to pause for a moment. I’d look at this as a weak narrative of the events that transpired that summer if I didn’t include me maudlin inner discourse at the time. I usually don’t believe I’d be as much of a plague to the synapses, but when this began, I indeed was. This biased on the crucial background of having been rejected yet again by a girl I had let myself get to worked up about. While those of you who read this might not believe me, or anything I write in this narrative if you could believe at least this about me, my conservatism with putting my interests on the line was in fact true. While it may not seem that way in all respects throughout this story it is indeed a fact, though as you’ll see one of the most easily believable of them considering the summer as a whole.

Regardless, no one that I knew personally seemed to be in that day, as I glanced around the room. One exception did peak my interest for a moment. However, that being when a medium-high girl with brown hair walked through one end of the coffee shop to the other, another girl in tow. She was reasonably attractive, but that’s not what stood out about her, the way that she stormed through the coffee shop was. Not only that but I was able to hear a small amount of her conversation with the girl following which sounded like “…of course it’ll work, I’ll make it work…”.  While this statement might seem sort of blazé, and indeed it is, I felt like it stood out in an odd manner that I couldn’t put my finger on… then she and the other girl had left.

This didn’t seem much of consequence, but I had that feeling of regret that I would never know that girl or what she had been talking about. It wasn’t long before I was returning again to the clubroom Italian Soda in hand.

The remainder of that hot afternoon was uneventful, and I was happy to make my way back to my apartment after the club hours had ended. The subway back was just as muggy as the room, if not more so. As always the subway was packed though even a Californian like myself got used to it after three years living in New York City. When I transferred to the L train, however, it was strangely empty. Near the end of the car there was some homeless man sleeping on a bench, otherwise, however, it devoid of passengers. Not unknown to happen, but still… It didn’t faze me too much at the time, but I had an odd sense of unease as I helped myself to a seat on the other side of the car from the sleeping bum. This was the most extended leg of my commute, and I realized that I hadn’t put on my headphones like I usually did, the best way to create your own space on public transportation.

With the music filling my ears I began to be lost in my own thoughts once again. Closing my eyes, I felt the rhythm of the train, I knew the time to my stop, it wouldn’t be long.

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