“A walk around campus”

by Brinly Teeple

They carry their phone in the case

they’ve had since spring term last year.

The one with the flowers and cardholder

that all Lville kids have.The one with the glass

camera protector that keeps

three absurdly large lenses intact.

We walk through campus trying to do their English homework:

listening to a podcast. At first, we talk, which we always do

but we never seem to run out of things to say, not to each other.

We quiet down as we remember the original purpose of the walk:

English homework. They put on the podcast.

It’s an Irish man explicating a poem.

His voice is soft and hard to hear so we don't talk.

We listen to his voice, but as we walk I hear something else.

Our footsteps.

The noises change based on the ground.

The pavement: a slapping sound

like the solitary sound of one set of feet as only my sandals hitting the ground make noise.

The grass: squelching

a sound that makes me feel sick

The gravel: a crunching

like the eggshells that  I walk on when I feel the tension.

A softer voice, slower motions.

Less talking, more questioning.

Are you ok. What's wrong.

What happened. Did I do something.

And the answer is

yes.

Yes. “I'm ok.” “Nothing is wrong.”

“Nothing happened.” “You didn't do anything.”

The answer is always “I'm ok”

until you keep asking and little by little

the answer becomes

no.

No. “I'm not ok.” Everything is wrong”

“Everything happened” “You did do something.”

“What.”

“I don't know.”

I can hear the eggshells again, but as I come out of my memories

I realize it's just the gravel and the podcast with the soft-spoken Irish man

has ended.