clocks

17

Dream

"If any questions come to mind later, I'll be in my office until around four," I announce to the room of students who are slow moving to collect their things on their way out of the classroom. "After that, you'll just have to find me sometime tomorrow."

It's early, I'm sleepy. I almost stayed in bed this morning, amidst George's warm body and the tickle of his hair against my chest and his low snores that are still probably chorusing through my bedroom right this very second.

Eventually I fought my way up and out of the apartment. The wind is loud outside, the morning is dark and it seems like it's going to stay that way for the entirety of the day. I struggle with my urge to yawn, wiping the blackboard clean whilst waiting for the last few students to clear from the room.

Once the classroom is empty, I gather up my own things into my satchel and I head off to find myself lunch, or should I say breakfast? I rushed this morning, to head and buy food that George could eat for breakfast whenever he wakes up, and in the rush I forgot to get myself something to eat.

The corridors are busy, it's a Monday morning, they're bound to be. Some people look careless, chatting casually with friends, others look like they're about to lose their heads. I've been both.

I think it's begun to rain outside, as I near the exit of the building, trying to rack my mind of food places within twenty minutes since I only have half an hour before my next class, a lot of people have wet hair. I curse myself for leaving my jacket in my office across the school.

"Dream!" a voice calls, mixing in with the hundreds of other voices surrounding. I turn, met by the face of another teacher, the name of which I can't place. I feel bad, because she clearly knows who I am.

"I'm trying to track down everybody, the faculty is organizing some kind of start of term staff party towards the end of September," she tells me quickly, clearly gathering that I'm in some sort of rush. "Do you think you would go? We're trying to set numbers, see who would be interested."

I shrug, not fully taking in her words. "Yeah, sure," I answer, my mind still completely lost within the thoughts of a breakfast roll, or pancakes, pancakes sound amazing. "That would be cool, sure."

"Great!" she smiles, looking down to a list I never even realized was there. Her pen scratches out what I'm guessing is my name. "I'll let you know more closer to the time?"

"Yeah, sounds great," I smile back, turning away towards the big main doors to Yale where a new flood of students have just arrived through. The teacher, if she even is a teacher, smiles at me before turning back her way through the crowd.

My mind goes adrift, it is raining outside. I lift a useless arm above my head, lightly jogging towards the direction of my car. The morning is drowsy, my head isn't in the right place. All I can think about is him cozied up under my white bedsheets, and how much I want to swerve directly onto the road that leads back to the apartment, back to him.

***

It's almost four, and I'm rushing to get home and I'm trying not to think about how desperate I am to see him again. After practically being attached at the hip for the last week, it's been weird not seeing him, even if it's only been for a couple of hours.

The city isn't as busy as it will be in an hour or so. I made a note to get out early to avoid any of the rush hour traffic and luckily enough, my clever thinking does spare me any standstill traffic that I usually wouldn't care about sitting in. But now, I have a reason to be home.

My keys turn in the door, and I'm met with the sight of what I've been waiting for all day. His head turns from the kitchen, where he's slicing what looks like fruit, up into a bowl.