Silverfish

Interupted by the Sound

On this sharp autumn afternoon we sat outside of a café, attempting to read our required texts but really only complaining amongst ourselves–completely unsuccessful in pursuit of our intended academic dispositions.

Ben stood at the edge of the café entrance, staring at the two of us before his consciousness was interrupted by the sound of brisk, triumphant winds pressing against the faded brick of the shop. He seemed dramatically taken aback by this sudden proclamation of the season, ducking into the interior of the café as if to abscond away from it all.

Miles, whom was sitting across from myself, looks past my shoulders, searching for Ben, "It's just a little wind, buddy!"

I turn around in my dark wooden chair to face Ben as well, "It's only a little sharp sometimes. Sitting outside is always better. Staying inside wouldn't do you too much good."

He peers around the corner of the brick at both of us, rolling his eyes before settling on complying to our somewhat demeaning requests, "Fine."

Miles nods to himself in candor, clearly pleased with the outcome, "That's right. Now what will you be concerning yourself with today?"

Ben pulls a chair from the tables adjacent to us and sits down next to me in defeat, "I've got an article for the paper due tomorrow. Something about fundraising for the rowing team. I wasn't even aware the university had one to be honest."

Miles chuckles briefly, "Really, how can anyone possibly have time for recreational sports in college? What do you think Anastasia?"

I place the xerox I was currently making my way through face down onto the table and sit up a little in my chair, "Well, I do think it can be done. But I believe that something will always falter in its place. You simply cannot have it all–it is not humanly possible."

Both boys cock their head to the side in unregarded interest, obviously pressing for some sort of expanded explanation from myself.

I sigh, "I mean, let's say you have a job as well as maintaining a schedule as a full-time student. You realistically are only able to manage those two things. Add some type of sports team–or any type of club for that matter–and something will give. Something will suffer at the success of the other. And if someone appears to be able to manage all three types of worldly distractions, they are losing it mentally. Something will give."

Miles and Ben seem to gawk at my theory, unable to form coherent, meaningful responses.

Finally, Ben obliges, "And that's why you don't see me heading off to soccer practice every Tuesday's and Thursday's."

Miles lets out an abrupt laugh, "I don't think that's the only reason why you're not in any sports, bud."