With the feel of Christmas morning, he turned off the alarm, threw back the covers, and jumped into his clothes. He arrived at the bus stop just in time to catch the East-West campus connector. His heart raced with excitement, as he found himself in a lecture hall filled with other over-eager students patiently waiting to fill their new college rule notebooks with crisp Cornell notes.
With the same vigor and venom of a guard in a Soviet Gulag, the expressionless librarian took demented pleasure in patrolling the rows of reading material in search of latchkey kids to oust from her self-made prison of books.
Yea, they made a big fuss about it, but the rising flood waters didn't scare me a bit! If you ask me, they were a welcome change from weeks and months of long lonely days in this nursing home. Then, right smack-dab in front of me, the nurse said she didn't even think I'd make it. Thank God! Just in the nick of time, this strapping young man in uniform came out of nowhere, scooped me up, held me very close in his arms, and helped me escape that place into his helicopter.
Alone in his tent, the Marine Captain sipped what very well might be his last cup of coffee, while methodically drawing up the battle plan. There were no fighting holes, no rally points, and no reinforcements. He thought to himself, "Today is the day that we'll simply move forward until what must be done, is done".
He road rail cars and answered only to his whims, but he was anything but homeless. As both collector and curator for his private gallery of unspeakably exquisite frozen moments, home was an ever-present feeling for him, not a place.
