Waking to a Cold September

My fingers are cold. I wouldn’t say freezing, quite, but they’re numb enough to slow my writing. I don’t know if it’s the atmosphere or the actual shift in weather. It is indeed the chilliest it’s been in a while. But this morning, I had my earbuds in, as I usually never do, and I took seat somewhere slightly different that normal. I like to change perspectives, often enough to escape the traps of comfort and shallow consistency.

The piano keys melodied my thought, as the music to my ears resembled the soundtrack of a film. And for a brief few moments, a police officer walked through the many students, seated, and drowning in whatever they believe the screens offer. He had a smile on his face, this officer. But it was timid, for there were no students smiling back.
Ever since these cold moments, it’s been a cold day. And perhaps it’s not the weather.