An Evening Visitor

A wet rain in January creates slush and puddles that soak left over salt into boots and jeans with each step. The day now coming to an end and the sidewalks lit by lamplight, a boy tall and thin walks up to the dormitory where the girls sleep and study and live. He has his dark hoodie pulled up over his head to keep the rain off his face. He stops outside a window, where he crouches near low bushes; at their base is a pile of melting snow. His bare hands are quick as they scoop a pile of the white ice and mould it into what would be a ball. He stands up and with a toss the heavy ball hits the low window. A low thud makes those around him aware of his presence. He takes a step back, wiping his hands on his jeans as he waits. From inside the room a hand pulls apart the white curtains with the frilled edge that frame the cold glass. He raises his hand in a small wave; the girl responds with the same. The common, “hi”s and “what’s up”s are said through the glass though neither can hear the other too well. Before they can continue on with their silent dialogue, she points to the door that’s just feet away from her window. He nods and takes a few steps closer to the door as her visage disappears. Moments later she opens the door, sock-footed and dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. With the light of the door pouring into the night she leans against the frame, their voices soft as they speak to one another.