the antelounge

1/24/17

The table in the antelounge is always cluttered. Things just accumulate there: a prolific amount of origami flowers, a strange shape cut from solid steel that looks so important it hasn’t been moved in years, a tape measure that seems to belong to everyone.

People accumulate here too: people muttering over computers. TA’s waiting to be asked for help or hoping for a moment to breathe when it seems everyone’s code is throwing errors, picklocks asking to be handcuffed anywhere, boasting that they’ll get out in 10 minutes, fire spinners waiting until midnight to practice in the dark.

We passed through here when we were “going on an adventure” as you so wanly put it. When you told us to wear dark clothes and bring flashlights. We were looking for the one place on campus where only two people had been before, remember? We found the boiler room, left unlocked by accident where they kept the plans for the school, maps and proposals, things we probably weren’t supposed to see. Because we weren’t supposed to be there, that’s what Jamie, the surprised head of maintenance told us anyway.

You never found the secret location, roaming around with smart things to say as I followed and said nothing. I found it later in my own quiet way of overhearing, but I didn’t tell you. It had something to do with how I could never make an impression on you. But it’s okay because people accumulate here. All types. And none of them normal.