Elaine Kirkland

The Hallway Lingerer

The distance from the annex building to her Spanish class could not be longer. One corner of the campus to the other. Since the shortest distance between the two points is a straight line, journeying outside only made sense. Despite this, most of her classmates walked the halls, lingering in the open and airy space where stairways and hallways merge. This is where friends stand in circles, gossip exchanges, and romantic hopefuls flirt and connections blossom. She can see the halls through the windows on her path outside, but only stares ahead, trying to avoid even peripheral glimpses. She wonders how she got it so wrong and they are getting it so right. In no hurry to take her assigned seat in the last period, her walk has reduced to stroll, hoping to come off as breezy. But while she can masquerade how she carries herself, she has never mastered the poker face. Her expression has always been a window to her heart, and these days it is empty. In the Fall, it was full. She walked inside. She was one of those hallway lingerers, and this is where she found him. He filled her heart with hope and adoration, as every first love does. Every nerve in her soared. She felt seen and accepted. She was getting it right. Until she wasn't. Until hope and adoration were replaced with hurt and shame. With one misstep, she got it all wrong. She was all wrong.