I was in my room again, head on the pillow but feet on the floor, body half-cocked at an angle that was anything but soothing. The thing was, I didn't want to be soothed, or to sleep. And I guess I wanted the awkwardness too. Because in a blink I could phase through the floor, and be downstairs and ready to face -- whatever. Wasn't everything that vague these days?
I was supposed to be the link. Isn't that what this whole thing started out being? I had done both, lived both in a way. From mutant to college student, and then to some strange blend of both. I taught. I was educated. And I was still learning lessons I didn't want to.
And I guess I didn't want to phase either. Maybe the feet on the floor meant I would rather prolong the knowing. That the extra steps down the hall, and the stairs to the front door to see who was gone this time? Maybe I wanted to pretend I hadn't heart the sound as long as possible.
But the truth was my room was too close to the door for that.
I could hear, and feel, everytime it slammed closed. And I also knew that it wasn't because anyone was actually coming in. These days, people only left.
And I was worried about who would be next. Just like I could fianlly admit, as our number grew smaller and smaller, and more students left? Now I could finally admit just how much I had loved being back here, and what that had meant.
But what did that mean for today?
My feet kept scraping the floor, and I waited for the door to slam again.
Because it would.