Pitter patter

A light mist of rain fell, clinging to my clothes and hair as I made my way around the dark car park. The street lights cast long orange shadows on the footpath, and a weak breeze ruffled my hair. Campus has an eerie feel about it at night, full of lit yet empty buildings, standing like sentinels looming out of the dark. The bus interchange is across the other side. It was 10pm, and I was fleeing.

From what, you ask? I asked myself the same questioned as I quickened my pace, jumping at every twig snap and leaf rustle. I honestly had no idea, but the urge to run had found me, and I broke into a jog.

It occured to me as I trotted through the dark that perhaps some people are not cut out for happiness. Perhaps things can be going too well. Was that it? Was I fleeing my perfect life, course, boyfriend, friends? The idea fit me almost too well. Self sabotage is a specialty. I thrive on drama. I think secretly everyone does. Nobody wants to be happy, not really. People want to cry and kick and scream.

With that thought I burst out of the darkness into the bright lights of the bus interchange, damp and ruffled and a little bit dazed. An old lady and a young man sat beneath the little shelter, a young man who first offered me a beer, and then his number. He was breaking the bubble. He did not understand how public transport worked. The lady understood. We were to wait together, ride together, but appart. Most importantly silent. The public transport bubble.

I love catching buses at night. The electric whirr of the door opening, admitting you into that little halo of light. Rushing through the darkness, like travelling to another world. The bubble breaker sat down next to me and continued to break the rules, but I didn't mind so much. Let him talk. I was escaping. I was going to another world.

I stepped out into the darkness of a different part of town. It had started raining in earnest, and I was not just damp now but wet. I sat underneath an unfamiliar streetlight, at an unfamiliar tram stop, caught somewhere between my destination and home. Home. I hadn't used that term to describe campus yet. I suppose it was now though. Then, with timing that one rarely encounters my phone lit up, and I flipped it open to a message from home. From Tom. I smiled.

Ahead of me, Hailey waited. At home, Tom waited too. Somewhere in between, I got on a tram. I had no idea to which it would deliver me. I didn't really mind. Sometimes running in itself is enough.