All Along [H.S]

One

"I can't believe we're actually here." Camille sighs happily as we enter campus grounds.  The sun throws its rays of light over New York, leaving the city in a mesmerising summer gleam. Around us red and beige stone buildings rise proudly. They stand screaming with pride - knowing just how important they were. "I know." I manage to breathe out delightfully.

   With slow - yet eager - steps we make our way to the open square in front of the enormous library, that tower over us with a wide staircase and no less than ten antique columns. Above the columns THE LIBRARY OF COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY is written in dark faded letters. The stone square, in between the library and the grass yards, is decorated in a symmetrical patters made from red squares surrounded by beige stones. The university’s architecture is breathtaking. Classic and beautiful. Both of our necks are bent back, trying to read the engraved writing above the tall black letters, but it seems to have faded too much with time to be readable from the ground. After watching the library building for a couple minutes, I am forced to adjust my head normally, to keep my neck from cramping. It always seem to be like this the first days on Manhattan. Every building towers over you with such power that you can not help but stare. I doubt Camille thinks about waking up with a sore neck in the morning, because she breathes in deeply and shuts her eyes - still with her face turned towards the sky. I watch her for a moment. She looks relaxed, but the joy is written all over her face. In the way her lips curl up in a barely visible smile, the light quiver of her eyelids and air she inhales through her nostrils. I feel an urge to wrap my arms around her waist and pull her in for a hug, but she looks so calm that disturbing her would seem unnecessary. The thought of standing by the side of the closest friend I had since first grade, in front of my absolute dream university, seems all too exciting to be real. I take a deep shaking breath, and let myself take a couple steps closer to the staircase. 

“Maybe we should get lunch and eat it on those steps?” Camille’s soft voice interrupt my slow movement, and I turn to glance back at her - a small smile creeping over my lips, “And here I thought you were in deep deep thought.”

She lets out a small laugh, “I was actually quite the opposite. You do realise that sometimes it’s important just to enjoy the moment, the air, the atmosphere. It can be very calming.” 

I raise my eyebrows. “I am sure it can,” I mock her lovingly. The truth is that Camille has grown very close to the concept of yoga and meditation during spring, and ever since, she has managed to find small joy-filled moments in everyday. I find it interesting and if I had been a calm creature myself, perhaps I would have given it a try, but my world is always spinning a hundred kilometres pr. hour or not at all. I get bored during long workout sessions - and I was so incredibly bored the first time Camille dragged me to a yoga session, that I fell asleep on the mat. It was a moment of embarrassment and judgemental glances from middle-aged women, who all seemed to give me some sort of teenage thug title. Truth is just that my workout comes from things with speed, things that make me feel strong enough to call myself Black Widow. I like the rush of a slightly violent and hard workout. 

Camille open her mouth to speak, but closes it again. I swear that she thinks telling me how I should just try to be more in touch with myself, and perhaps join a yoga class, but we both remember how that worked out. Camille was just as - if not more - embarrassed than I was. I was not obligated to look the coach, nor the middle-aged women, in the eye a couple days later. 

“But what do you say?” She asks and takes a couple steps forward, joining my side.

“To what?” I ask.

“Lunch on these steps.” She replies.

I think about it for a moment. “It seems like a very nice idea.” I then say and turn my head to look at her. She flashes me a smile. “Okay,” she raises her left forefinger in the air, “What are we getting?”