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A Long Road Home

I'm riding the bus home from work when it drives right past the street I lived on for most of my childhood and turns down the next street. No worries, I think, I can get it to let me off here, walk down this street, cut through a yard and be home. But the driver assures me that he'll turn around at the end of the road and take me back to my street, so I stay on.

When I finally get off, my boss follows me. I say goodbye and go to give her a hug, but she indicates that this would be inappropriate. So I awkwardly say goodbye again and turn around to head home. I'm on campus now, so I begin running, a full out sprint, hunched over, with my hands near the ground. I make a 90 degree turn to my left, dragging my hands across the ground to slow myself down faster and propel myself foward in my new facing. I can feel the dirt running through my fingers. I round a few more corners with the same ferocious quickness and find myself facing the dorm. It's a very open building, with some of the rooms practically open to the outside.

But I can't go in yet. There's a band playing in the entrance, partly in their room, partly in the public entrance. If I go in now I'd disrupt the performance, and there's an official there to tell me that that would not be acceptable. So I sit and listen and feel the dirt move between my fingers.

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