All necessary to chase a tornado.

An estute silence befell the campus as the semester made its finally push to syphon student's lifeforces. As the pressure to overcome the procrastination of term papers and projects heats up, the weather has cooled down. The cold front & heated moment combination causes a collision of climates, and in the world of science, a tornado is formed.

A moving vortex seeking to consume all joy and happiness, while students pursue in the corners of cafes and the basements of libraries.

The only thing blocking freedom. The only variable in resistance.

I strolled, quite Shamelessly, under the luminescence of night lights. Bitter cold biting at my bones.

Rockport shoes.
Supremo caramel latte.
Disheveled notes.
Textbook.
Knife.

All necessary to chase a tornado.

Now reaping the rewards of procrastination, I again come to terms with the fact that time will not wait for task. Allocation of minutes, as minute as it may seem, defines us.

A gallant stroll to the library, with everything but universal practicality in my mind.

"Study Group. Research. Write. Nap. Crap. Shower. It's Cold. She's Cute. FOCUS."

My stroll is as determined and expeditious as my stream of consciousness.

But in the eye of the storm came Clarity. A young woman, maybe in her late teens. She walked under the lights ahead of me. Her walk was crippled. Slow as she braced upon the columns meant to brace buildings.

"Why? Had she done anything to deserve her condition? Parents who drank alcohol during pregnancy? Bacteria in the water?" thought I.

I slow down. As if somehow to pay respects. To not mock her circumstance. To not use as efficiently what she so struggled to maintain. To makes equal. Perhaps.

How fleeting is charity. How momentary was Clarity.

"Study Group. Research. Write. Nap. Crap. Shower. It's Cold. She's Cute. FOCUS."