springing

My dorm room was bright this morning. It was disorienting. The sky outside was a cloudless, striking neon blue. The air was so crisp and clean, I could hardly feel it going in and out. It all sparked to create a diffused sense of well-being. Gone, it seems, were the concrete bunker feels of winter. There's been some loose talk of ‘spring’ lately—I thought it was fake news—but from my third floor lattice windows I could see what looked like people outside. They were walking in the sunshine, riding bikes, throwing frisbees, kicking ??hacky sacks, a couple was making out in the grass—it was a riot of activity. Sunny skiffed out of her room (which looks like a hotel room trashed by some rock star), she seemed lighter than air. Three days ago, she announced there was someone of “particular personal significance,” in her life (translate: girlfriend). Start the schmaltzy, string-drenched soundtrack—love is in the air. Our challenge now is to carve out a poised and measured final act to our undergraduate years. There’s a scurrying, cynosure, beehive, hyperfocus to labs and classes, a heightened, almost cinematic quality, as if, up to now, we’ve only been practicing for some undefined ‘real thing.’ . . Songs for this: Daylight by Harry Styles Ain't Nothing Like the Real Thing by Michael McDonald Dizzy (feat. Alfie Templeman & Thomas Headon) by chloe moriondo . . Skiffed = narrowly missed hitting someone