Misplaced Courage

15 Minute Write

“ It’s up there “ he points to a set of stairs through a set of double fire doors

“.. turn left when you get into the corridor and it's the fourth door facing the town “

“ I’m not sure I can do this mate. Look at my hands “ he holds out his hands and they are, indeed, shaking quite violently.

The two students were standing in the semi-dark corridor in the halls of residence which they were not residents of. It was like a completely different campus or university - even the people they passed to get here seemed different, and strange, compared to the population of their halls.

“ Don’t be pathetic. You know it’s the right thing to do. What have you got to lose? “

In his mind, he rushed through the possibilities, his dignity for sure, all of the iota of respect he had, then probably even a few friends and what if it escalated and a complaint was made - then maybe even his place in the college? He was being dramatic, and he knew it.

“ Quite a lot I reckon “ he offered weekly.

His friend snorted, something between a laugh, a dismissal and a resignation. Perhaps this wasn’t going to go as planned after all. It was an elaborate one - the plan. Somehow he had to make contact and it had to be by proxy. He certainly couldn’t do it himself. He actually really did have quite a lot to lose.

“ Nah - you’ll be fine. They know you - or know of you so you’ll be able to tell straight away whether things are good or not. You are a good judge of character. Knock on the door and do what your gut tells you - trust your judgement “

All this confidence-boosting talking was making things worse. If he was going to do this, and he was still undecided, then he’d do it on his terms - nothing that could be said would sway him one way or another.

The stairs ahead illuminated in a mid-afternoon cloud break - it was almost a sign if he believed in such things. As he pondered the light faded as quickly as it had leaked in and, strangely, this was the starter gun, a ‘go go go!’. Without so much as a look back at his friend, he set off. The shakes in his hand had calmed - he was resigned - it was as if he had lept from the ledge of a bungee jump - nothing he could do about it now he was headed down one way or another.

He climbed the steps, which folded back on themselves and pushed at the stiff door at the top - air rushed out as if there were a change in atmosphere in this corridor - perhaps female corridors were kept at a different pressure he pondered. He was praying there was no one else around and, to his delight, the corridor was as empty as the one he had just been in. He counted the doors, 1, 2, 3 …

He took a deep breath. Room 204. The numerals in black plastic under which a spy hole sat and a tiny sticker of an angel. Should this be a good omen? He felt a slight stutter in his confidence and to abate it rapped three times on the fireproof wood covering before his sense could stop him. 

How time moved in between those knocks and the door opening is an essay of quantum mechanics to be written elsewhere - suffice to say that the door did open and he was there face to face with her. 

“ do what your gut tells you “

His gut told him to run.

“Hi” he tried in his best nonchalant, casual style ( which somehow made his voice come out as a high-pitched squeak)

“I’ve seen you around the library and I know this is weird but I wondered if you’d like to …”

“Oh hey - hello - you’re that really cool guy’s friend? “

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University of Kent, Canterbury. August 2021. Nikon d750

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