walk a mile

obsessive

     As I step out into the crowded hallway, I'm immediately filled with anxiety. The crowd seems to close in on me as I make my way through the crowded college campus. I hastily shuffle in the direction of my room, my navy moccasins scuffing across the tile floor. Every student brushing by causes my muscles to tense momentarily before I continue my rushed trek to my dorm.
I enter the boys dorm and am immediately assured with the odor of B.O. and rotting food. I wrinkle my nose in disgust and step over the mess. I suppress the urge to clean as I focus on my destination; my room. My clean, safe room.
     "Hey Leo!"
     The sudden exclamation of my name causes me to nearly drop my book bag in fright. I turn abruptly to see an intoxicated student stumbling towards me. It takes a moment before I'm able to recognize him; it's Derek, the kid from my AP class. He always sits in the back with a water bottle full of vodka, pelting paper balls at the back of my head.
     I lower my head in fear as I see him approach me, my shaggy black hair nearly hiding his broad frame from my line of vision.
     With a drunken swagger, he swings his arm over my shoulder and sighs happily.
     "Hey pal!" he chirps sarcastically, "where've ya been?"
     My boney frame begins to shudder at the contact, but I try to remain still as not to anger him.
    "Still not talking, eh?" he slurs. "Maybe I can help you with that."
     Derek staggers forward, and I watch in horror as him muddy sneakers stomp on my pristine moccasins.
     My breathing immediately quickens and my vision begins to blur.
     No. There can't be mud. No dirt. That's not allowed. That's not okay.
     With a blind desperation, I shove him aside and desperately stagger to my room. To safety.
When I finally reach my room, I barely notice the stares anymore. Shaking, I turn the key and step inside. I slowly close the door and turn the locks before taking a deep breath and relaxing. I remove the contaminated moccasins and place them in the bin with the previous pairs from the week.
     I glide through my symmetrical room to my closet. Sliding the door open, I stare with content at the vision awaiting me.
     My hundreds of pairs of navy moccasins, all in pristine condition, lined up on the closet shelves. With a sigh of relief, I select my new pair.