Class

It was warmer than it should have been. November was two days away and it was over 60 degrees. The sun was shining, and the only hint that winter was on the horizon was the slight chill the winds carried as the buildings funneled them into carefully directed blasts. A perfect day for my mood.

I didn't know why I was miserable, I just was. No, that isn't true, I knew why, I just thought the reasons were absurd and illogical. I remember thinking, as I left my building, "even the weather is uncooperative, too warm and sunny to be appropriately dramatic, and too friggin' windy to cheer me up".

I spent the next hour and a half or so sitting at my desk trying to come up with combinations of skittles that matched sodas. All I came up with was green plus yellow equals sprite, and two orange equals fanta. I decided skittles needed a bit more variety.

I figured halloween candy was bad for me, so I ate it quickly when I got it, out of sight out of mind. I told myself I would do sit-ups when I got home to make up for it. Some other part of me told me I wouldn't but it was nice that I said it to try to make myself feel better. Then I got confused about what I was talking to myself about.

The man giving the lecture was wearing a natural clay colored shirt with slightly-lighter-than-slate gray slacks. I guess he was more aware of his wardrobe than most professors. He was walking around with a metal baton, same track on the floor, right side board, to the left side front row. Back and forth, back and forth. I was paying more attention to him than what he was saying. Well, not him specifically so much as the environs.