the fountains

     The water reflected the walkway lights ineffectively. The fountain pool was black and still like an oil puddle in a parking lot. The streams were turned off so the metallic poles that normally transformed the campus into postcard level scenery now stood stiff, unwavering it seemed.

    We had driven up in a friend’s Jeep. I had just met her and she said she had stopped drinking hours ago. It was unclear as to how we had never met, it seemed as though we both knew everyone there. Plus she wore caps that were too big for her head and laughed loudly at boys wrestling each other with solo cups in hand.

     The parking lot we used was empty and I stood at the lip of the water for a moment. A single streetlight shown on the empty campus road and the cement was cold beneath my toes. We took off our clothes and jumped in. There were five of us. Me and Tim and three girls I knew from documentaries and parties and serious talks with acquaintances.

     The water was cold and my legs quickly went numb. I wrapped myself in a towel, which must have required some premeditation by our driver. It was 3 am and I had just graduated. I had nowhere to be.

    The campus sat dark and unwavering. The buildings were designed in the sixties and the jagged stone did not seem dated enough. As if it were a collection of banking offices.

     I stood and look out at the campus as four people I didn’t know rubbed towels down their thighs. I wondered if I’d ever see this place again.