The Satellite

As I opened the door into the cold morning air I listened intently to the reason why my friend had dressed so nicely. When I see one of my peers dressed up I feel like something is going to go very wrong because I'm wearing a pair of unwashed jeans.

Apparently it was career day. A day where booth after booth take resume after resume. "Look fresh, they won't want to hire you if you look normal." I thought to myself.

To my dismay I had to walk past all of that to turn in some pointless homework I just copied onto paper. As I walked by, the sun put its hands over my eyes as if to keep me from seeing anyone who belonged there.

Every booth had the same kind of person sweating and standing behind them. Their ties performing tracheotomies as they stood there taking and giving papers with a toothy grin on their face, each one of them concerned with the simple default pleasures in life: money, children, status. I looked at the cobble stones as I walked to avoid seeing everyone around me succeeding. My brow sweating I finally arrived to the drop box.

I arrived the same time a quiet woman did. I took my time taking my homework out to see what slot she would slide her papers into. Coincidentally she held the very homework for the very class that I had walked across campus for. We left, I behind her, and walked through the career fair like small boats passing and ignoring enormous islands.

What she looked like as she walked through the breezes resembled an object being pushed through empty space, even gravity failed to control her. Her skirt floated around her waist like a halo, each blush of wind slightly lifting each bend and curl, eluding to the subtle curvature in her tanned legs. You could almost see the perpetual growth of her hair as it flew closely behind her face. She turned her head to make sure a bike wasn't about to ruin my moment with her and her hair swam to the front of her face forcing her to flutter her eyes. While time was still stopped she began walking again. Her sandals, the birds, the suited androids; they all remained silent as she moved.

I didn't want to believe that someday, a girl like that was going to be pinned down by a black pencil skirt and the endless ordeal of earning a paycheck. I didn't want to believe that this moment or this woman was going to deteriorate and crumble into a lifeless skeleton someday. I didn't want to believe. I never wanted to believe. This got me thinking about the damned career fair.

I thought "Was I to be doomed like those robots too? Put in a cotton leash and thrown into a work camp? Did everything have to crumble to the ugly, honest, dull core inside?" She veered onto her own path and just like that I was thrown back onto my terrible and real earth, once again searching through that giant box of gray for something bright and colorful.