My parka created a vignette of black fur. I looked down, trying to keep the wind from blowing in my face. I heard the polite but all too close voice of a woman next to me, “Hey”. I quickly snap my head around to see another student with their phone to their ear, noticing the blush the cold winter air has given her. I chuckle to myself as I’m reminded that I’m far from home. Where I live, near the farmlands of New Jersey, if a voice is that close, there is no mistaking that they want your attention. Acknowledging social boundaries I slow my steps, allowing a natural stagger to fall into place. Still within earshot of the woman, I begin to pay attention to their conversation. I had left my headphones in my dorm anyway and I figured this would be a good distraction from the 20 minute walk I had to my next class. 

“No yeah, I’m like right here. I see you. Okay, bye.” A girl sitting on the bench stands and laces her arm into the other girl’s without hesitation. I notice how our outfits juxtapose each other. I appear as though I’m off on an Alaskan expedition, while her tights are so thin I would be able to tell if she had a tattoo. She rests her head on the other’s shoulder but there is a hollowness to it. There is a lack of excitement that would usually accompany two friends or lovers reuniting. I pick up pace slightly when they begin to talk. 

“Am I overreacting?”, the girl in leggings asks, looking up to her friend with wide innocent eyes. 

Gently the other responds, “No, no absolutely not. You have every right to be upset. I completely understand. I would be devastated too. I can’t believe that happened. You’re honestly so strong.” Pfft. Boys. They hold each other tighter and when their embrace ends, the same girl’s voice hitches, nearly breaking into a full on cry, “I know how badly you wanted to be in the play.” I’m taken aback by the amount of compassion I’ve just witnessed. A person with moderately bad news is upset and their friend nearly starts shedding tears for them, over a play nonetheless. Is this what normal people do? Am I just a calloused soul? I choose to block out my existentialism. Theater kids.