|| His Salvation ||

Chapter- 4

As I strolled through the bustling street with my best friend, the urgency of the impending deadline at college gnawed at me. Time seemed to slip through my fingers like sand, and the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the pavement.

But then, just as we neared the college gates, a sudden realization struck me with the force of a thunderbolt—I had forgotten my ID card at home. Panic surged through me as I knew entry to the college was strictly regulated, and without my ID, I would be barred from attending class.

Frantically, I uttered, "Oh my God, what to do now?" My frustration boiled over, punctuating the air with the weight of my dilemma. "I have to go back home. It will take at least 30 minutes."

With determination fueling my every step, I raced back home, each stride a frantic beat against the clock. Bursting through the door, I hastily retrieved my ID and dashed back out into the street. The minutes ticked by like agonizing eternity, each one a reminder of the precious time slipping away.

Finally, breathless and heart pounding, I reached the college gates once more. With trembling hands, I presented my ID to the guard, relief flooding through me as I was granted entry. Sweeping past the imposing gates, I hurried to my first literature class of the day.

Inside the lecture hall, the topic turned to Shakespeare, a figure revered by many for his timeless works. Yet, as my classmates discussed his intricate language and profound themes, I found myself struggling to connect. The archaic words seemed to dance mockingly on the page, a barrier separating me from the beauty within.

Instead, my heart belonged to the works of John Cage, whose poetry spoke to me in a way that Shakespeare's never could. His words were like music to my soul, weaving tales of love and loss with a simplicity that belied their depth.

As the hours dragged on and the lecture continued, I found myself growing increasingly restless. Finally, when the class mercifully drew to a close, I stepped out into the hallway, eager to escape the confines of the lecture hall.

But fate had other plans, as I soon found myself colliding with someone in the crowded hallway. Startled, I looked up to see a tall figure glaring down at me with narrowed eyes.

"Can't you see? You've ruined my new shirt!" the voice boomed, full of indignation.

It was Qays Malik, a classmate whose arrogance knew no bounds. Despite my attempts to apologize, he brushed past me with a scowl, leaving me fuming in his wake.

"Okay," I muttered under my breath, my frustration boiling over. "Isn't he the famous Qays Malik? Where does he even get off? I barely touched him, and he's acting like I destroyed his entire wardrobe. Rich, filthy rich people are such ungrateful brats."

And with those words echoing in my mind, I trudged out of the college, eager to leave the chaos of the day behind me.