Tim returns to the tower and sees Amy in the lounge
I there was party that night in Dorm I, this scene doesn’t quite make sense. Could still work, if Amy suddenly bailed on the party and tried to talk to Tim, figure out why he blew off the party.
Tim returned to the tower after the uphill walk from the remote parking lot. He was of average height, broad-shouldered but thin. He wore huge, black eyeglasses, which both shielded his eyes behind thick glass and distracted attention from the rest of his face. As he crossed the bridge connecting the dormitory with the rest of the college, he stopped and looked into a copse of trees. Through the high branches, he could see the rising half-moon shining through wisps of thin fog.
After watching the fog pass in front of the moon, and seeing it thicken and subside, Tim turned back around and climbed the two flights of stairs which rose from the bridge. Just before he entered the door to the hall, he rubbed the back of his neck with his right palm. Only months before his hair had fallen all the way down to his shoulders. Over Thanksgiving break he had decided to get it cut and now it was shorn to medium-length in the front and very short in the back.
Tim passed into the lounge and saw Amy studying on the couch. He almost walked past her, ignoring her completely, but halfway through the lounge, he involuntarily glanced at her face. She saw him and smiled, closing her book.
“Safeway?” she asked.
Tim lifted the limp brown plastic bag and shook it. In a rough tone he said, “Yeah, I was just getting some food... you know.”
Amy shrugged and opened her book again. Tim stood for a few seconds longer, turned around and went around the corner. He jammed his key into the lock, opened the door and went into his small, single room.
Everything in his room irritated Tim, and the small bag of groceries he had brought back with him was no consolation. He was hungry, but felt no appetite. He left the room, quickly filled a plastic cup with water from the drinking fountain right outside the door. He opened the box of plain gold-white crackers he had bought. He ate a few and they calmed his stomach pains.
As he slowly crunched a third cracker, it seemed to Tim that his life had closed in on itself in the last few weeks. Why had he spoken that way to Amy? He had once been in love with her. He had tried to be intentionally rude to her and instead, made his voice into a weird tone which sounded like no kind of normal speech.
Tim was briefly tempted to go back out in the lounge and try to make conversation with Amy more normally. In his head he visualized the resulting scene, and it made him so uncomfortable he decided to go to sleep early and try to forget about the whole incident.
When he got in bed, Tim lay in bed and endlessly replayed the scene in the lounge with Amy, especially her expression when she had realized he was intentionally being rude to her-one of mild disgust at his temerity. She hadn't really taken offense, because he wasn't even enough of an equal to her that he could offend her. He was capable only of confusing her with his inexplicable behavior. They weren't friends any more, but that did not allow his behavior-she had a right to reject him, but he could not do the same to her.
Tim returned to the tower after the uphill walk from the remote parking lot. He was of average height, broad-shouldered but thin. He wore huge, black eyeglasses, which both shielded his eyes behind thick glass and distracted attention from the rest of his face. As he crossed the bridge connecting the dormitory with the rest of the college, he stopped and looked into a copse of trees. Through the high branches, he could see the rising half-moon shining through wisps of thin fog.
After watching the fog pass in front of the moon, and seeing it thicken and subside, Tim turned back around and climbed the two flights of stairs which rose from the bridge. Just before he entered the door to the hall, he rubbed the back of his neck with his right palm. Only months before his hair had fallen all the way down to his shoulders. Over Thanksgiving break he had decided to get it cut and now it was shorn to medium-length in the front and very short in the back.
Tim passed into the lounge and saw Amy studying on the couch. He almost walked past her, ignoring her completely, but halfway through the lounge, he involuntarily glanced at her face. She saw him and smiled, closing her book.
“Safeway?” she asked.
Tim lifted the limp brown plastic bag and shook it. In a rough tone he said, “Yeah, I was just getting some food... you know.”
Amy shrugged and opened her book again. Tim stood for a few seconds longer, turned around and went around the corner. He jammed his key into the lock, opened the door and went into his small, single room.
Everything in his room irritated Tim, and the small bag of groceries he had brought back with him was no consolation. He was hungry, but felt no appetite. He left the room, quickly filled a plastic cup with water from the drinking fountain right outside the door. He opened the box of plain gold-white crackers he had bought. He ate a few and they calmed his stomach pains.
As he slowly crunched a third cracker, it seemed to Tim that his life had closed in on itself in the last few weeks. Why had he spoken that way to Amy? He had once been in love with her. He had tried to be intentionally rude to her and instead, made his voice into a weird tone which sounded like no kind of normal speech.
Tim was briefly tempted to go back out in the lounge and try to make conversation with Amy more normally. In his head he visualized the resulting scene, and it made him so uncomfortable he decided to go to sleep early and try to forget about the whole incident.
When he got in bed, Tim lay in bed and endlessly replayed the scene in the lounge with Amy, especially her expression when she had realized he was intentionally being rude to her-one of mild disgust at his temerity. She hadn't really taken offense, because he wasn't even enough of an equal to her that he could offend her. He was capable only of confusing her with his inexplicable behavior. They weren't friends any more, but that did not allow his behavior-she had a right to reject him, but he could not do the same to her.
Works
Recent Writing
- 1989 A Novel: Tim and April walk to the liquor store
- Volume III: Helen meets Roxy for coffee at the Fremont College coffee shop
- Volume III: Tim walks back from Contemporary American Fiction
- Volume III: Helen conducts section, can’t prevent Michael from being dissed
- Volume III: Helen conducts section (HSZ version)