Anemic Letters

The university did not bite.

I can't say part of me didn't crumple. As much as I denied it, some inch of my being thought volunteering and clubs and books would be enough.

Luckily, the looming applications of more northern aspirations moved me along. Boston visions have swirled around of late.

And then, Saturday night, the scholar appeared. Sitting on the dock amongst the orange warmth of the cigar, something worked itself through the brain. Suddenly it was 70 degrees and he knew it as well as I did. This wasn't supposed to be happening.

I stomped home to the wife's abode and told her the story through smokey breath and closed eyes. Lying there on her bed in the sleep deprived hours, I did not think much of it.

I woke up laughing. Monday morning I laughed. and Monday evening I sat down to calculus and realised I had started something that I couldn't control.

Electricity is not supposed to run through me when I see him. I'm paralyzed by the thought of scaring him away, and confused as to what this will all end up as.

The secret asked me about it. He's right, he is old news. But what else would he have expected himself to be? The inconsistent companion does not care for any situation of this type. She has shown solely distaste. Other friends are whispering in the corners.

I think people are surprised because I was with the mad scientist for so long.

Maybe the university wasn't my biggest problem after all.