I’m so sorry – I hope I’m not bothering you. I never do this normally, but I just have to ask – did you have class outside? It’s just that I thought I recognized —
Oh my God! No, thank you so much, I really appreciate it! I was worried I was being rude, in case you were busy or — no, totally, I’m sure you get this all the time. I was just sure of it all of a sudden, before I even saw you, I think, I just felt it somehow, like a presence, if that makes sense. And then of course when I saw you I felt sure, but I still had to ask. It’s honestly like a radiation? Do you mind if I…? Oh, thank you so much!
Wow. You can really feel it, huh? I’m sure you get this all the time, haha. Do you mind if I ask you some questions about it? Of course if you’re busy or — no, of course. Right. You’re never too busy. Your relationship to order and chaos is totally self-actualized now. It was the strangest thing, I was just minding my own business when I was entirely and thoroughly struck by the thought that you’d had class outside. I just felt safe. But also free. Does that make sense? Completely safe but completely free at the same time, like anything was possible, but also that whatever anything looks like would be completely safe for me. Which you would think would act as a necessary constraint upon possibility, wouldn’t you? But it doesn’t. Not at all.
What was it like, when you asked? Or did you even ask? Maybe you just suggested it. I don’t know. Was it a nice day? Do you remember? I mean, of course it was a nice day, haha. Obviously. But do you remember anything specific about the niceness? Was it a remarkably or unexpectedly nice day? Did you expect the teacher would say yes, or did it come as a surprise?
I think it was the healthy glow. I mean besides that profound and indescribable feeling that washed over me. It felt like — you know those old toaster conveyer belts they have at sandwich shops? It felt like that. Like motion, like automation, like the perfect moment between not enough and too much. Golden. But there’s just this glow, which I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about, that was like, Yes, that was the optimal condition for learning, the unexpected trip to outside to finish calculus. Like the trees themselves taught you. I don’t know if there were trees outside your school. Maybe a lawn. Whatever it was. But I think there must have been trees. There’s a height to your learned air that can only come from trees. Or mountains. Or air, haha.
Did it happen to your classmates, too? They must have gotten something out of it too, right, even if they weren’t the ones who asked if you could have class outside that day? Like — ambient or secondhand realization of potential? Or like a lesser ascension? Probably you don’t think about it in those terms, because why would you, there’s no point in maintaining a rigid attachment to these arbitrary hierarchies after you’ve — after you’ve.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I don’t know why I’m crying!
Thank you. Thank you so much. You’re just — it’s really good to look at you. It’s really good just to see you. You must get this all the time. I really appreciate this. It means a lot to me. It means everything to me, honestly.
Oh, me? No. No, I never asked. I thought about it, obviously, but I never — I don’t know why I never. I wasn’t ready. It was too soon, and then I guess it was too late, and whenever the right time was, I didn’t know it. I wanted to. I think we all want to, at least once. Just to know what it’s like. Just to know that we can — that we can have the things that we ask for, if we ask for them. Maybe asking isn’t the right word. Did you ask? Or did you do something else?
No, I know. Of course. It’s always the right time. Or it was always the right time. But just getting to see you, now, here, like this, that’s enough for me. It really is! It really, really is. Please don’t even pay attention to it, it’s just like a reflex, I’m not crying because I’m sad. I’m just so, so glad that you got to have class outside. You look right. You look just right. I love it. It was such a good idea, and I’m so glad that you had it. I hope everybody saw you do it. I hope everybody else looked out their windows and followed you outside. Do you mind if I follow you for a while? I wasn’t going anywhere important, and I promise I won’t ask any more questions or try to bother you. I just want to go wherever you’re going. I mean, I know we’re outside right now, technically, but — not really. I don’t think I’ve ever really been outside until just now, when I saw you. You smell like bread. You smell like the best bread. Thank you for — thank you for how you smell. I’m sorry, I honestly never do this, I don’t know what’s come over me.