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The begining of a story about a few |
Despite the rain, I stood out from under the covered part of the bus stop. I had no backpack, no wallet, no nothing, so what did the rain matter? I didn’t even have a few crumpled dollars in my pocket to be concerned about soaking. Eighteen years old and going off to college with nothing but the clothes on my back and my only good pair of shoes. Good old converse. My name is David Blank. At last the bus arrived. Sopping wet teenagers must not have been a very unusual sight in the town, for no one took notice of my condition once. I squished into an empty seat and looked out the window. The bus stop that I had just been standing at gradually faded behind curtains of grey pouring rain. The corny bright illuminated signs that dotted the streets seemed out of place, advertising proudly to the gloomy downpour. The sidewalks were deserted, save for a few dark figures walking quickly with their heads tucked in their scarves and jackets, one hand clutching an umbrella. At last the bus slowed to a halt at my destination. The rain had died some and the light drizzle that tickled my skin felt like nothing come paired to my previous encounter with water. I walked up to a tall building with rows of windows towering over me. Pushing open the large old doors I stepped inside. I found myself in a large hall of old architecture where to one side of the room was a much more modern style desk. The hall had several large windows to the street, but due to the fact that it was nighttime, the room was only dimly lit by the elegant chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Sitting at the lone desk was an attractive woman, perhaps in her late twenties, sorting files. When she heard the sloshing of my wet shoes on the clean tile, she looked up. “I’m sorry, may I help you?” she inquired politely. I walked up to her desk, leaving a wet trail behind me. “I live here.” The intelligent woman arched a brow at me and peered inquisitively through her spectacles. “Why weren’t you here at the orientation in the morning? All the freshmen have settled into they’re rooms by now.” “My flight was delayed. There was a huge storm. I’m here now. Can I go to my room?” The lady sighed and set a stack of papers aside. She clicked the mouse of her computer a few times, studying the screen that was turned away from me. “What’s your name?” “David.” “Last name.” “Blank.” She typed it on her keyboard, clicked the mouse and surveyed whatever window popped up under my file. “Hmm…it seems you haven’t checked in. Alright Mr. Blank, your roommate has already checked in today, your room number is 152. Here’s your key, as well as a spare. If you lose it the fee will be $25. Welcome to Farckleberry University.” I took the small envelope she handed me with the two keys. When I didn’t move, she asked. “Is there something else I can do for you Mr. Blank?” I glanced up at her. “What’s your name?” “You may call me Ms. Patterson.” I sighed. “Your first name.” At this her brow arched once again, pondering whether or not to answer. Finally she replied, “Andrea.” “Good night Andrea.” I turned and ascended up the stairs to my room. |