Outside I felt disoriented, but I didn’t stop running.
Away from the hospital.
Toward the street.
It may have been fear of Professor K that sent my shoes moving and my eyes scanning for the nearest bus station, but it was the energy of love that fuelled me to keep going.
It was exhilarating! Cars whizzed by. I looked left, right.
Repeating her words in my head over and over.
I found a bus station.
I waited.
I hopped on a bus, then another, then checked my watch like she’d checked hers.
The way her expression had changed right after–
Yes, it was: disappointment!
She was disappointed that she had to leave, had to run.
I was running, too.
Down familiar campus paths to the Social Sciences building, all while reviewing the Battle of the Atlantic in my head, whose details mixed with her details, until she was the supply ships and I was the convoy, and the U-boats were her yellow shoes, and as I burst through the auditorium doors:
“Mister Oliver,” Professor K. said. “Late as usual.”