The Wonder Wall

I hadn't gone to the gym in about 2 months and I was feeling pretty worthless about it, so tonight, I decided to go to the Quarters mini-gym around 7 for a quickie workout, just about half an hour including the trip. I slapped on some shorts, a workout shirt, and left on my bike. It wasn't that bad the last time I had gone out, hopefully it was the same now.

Boy, was that a bad decision. It was freakin' freezing! The weather was a triple threat today: Cold, windy, and drizzling. It felt like someone was shooting little icicle daggers into my entire body. Going 10 mph into a headwind didn't help much.

When I got there a minute later, I saw this guy who was waiting outside of Plucker's (which is right next to the gym), posted up against the wall. He looked a little out of place. He was decked out in a full suit, hair carefully gelled and everything, with his backpack still on his back. He was shifting around anxiously, keeping his head down mostly but perking it up to look left and right expectantly every few seconds. His lips were drawn into his mouth, the way you'd look if you were at a loss for words.

He was nervously rolling something in between his thumb and index finger. I looked closer. It was a rose. No wrapping or packaging, no baby's breath or greens, just one really pretty rose.

Whatever. Time to go upstairs and work out.

I kicked ass in the weight room for what felt like the first time in forever. I was surprised to find out that even after two months, I hadn't dropped that much in terms of strength. I'm totally gonna go on a lifting spree after finals.

25 minutes later, I got out of there, and when I looked to my right, I stopped for a second. Who did I see but the same rose guy, still leaning on the wall. His nice suit was now glistening with drizzled rain, and yet there he was in the same spot, waiting and looking around expectantly. The little patch of dry sidewalk around his feet stood out as the only place the rain hadn't touched, apparently since he hadn't budged at all. A few pink bite marks littered the rim of his lips. His gelled hair was starting to fall apart, and the rose he still cradled in his fingertips fluttered in the bitter wind.

Poor guy.

I walked my bike past him, and as I looked him in the eyes, I felt a kindred emotion with him. They were a mixture of worry and hope, sadness and excitement. They seemed to say that he had every reason in the world to be anywhere but here, yet he chose to be right where he was. I could only nod my head in respectful understanding as I passed. He did the same.

It's cold tonight.