running to class.  taking a shortcut i remember like muscle memory in this UK city.  i go into a building and take a narrow winding stone staircase up to a bridge that will bring me across the street to the second level of another building.  but this bridge is freaking ancient.  the sides have mostly crumbled away so that it’s a narrow path in the sky that rises and sinks.  i get halfway across before i second guess myself and lay on my stomach.  i grip the edges and pull myself forward to the other side. when i get across i run downstairs and outside.  next to this place is a grand campus of one college building and a gated field.  the school has ornate gold double doors.  i go inside and start to run to my class when i realize i have no idea what my schedule is.  layla is there.  we have one class together but it’s not today. she offers her best guess at what it might be but i’m not convinced.
walking home (avoiding the shortcut this time) i get to an alley that has a pool and a Picasso sculpture that kids are playing on.  i smile to the mother.  i hear a child crying so i go under the sculpture and it becomes a dark bedroom lit by a hall light.  inside are twin girls about 4 years old.  one is in an undershirt and underwear and daydreaming.  the other is wearing an undershirt only and she is crying that it hurts.  her mother is fanning her with a folded piece of paper.  i remember what it was like to get infections like this little girl and so i look at them with true empathy.
when i exit into the hallway i am in layla’s house.  she needs help mounting a tv on the wall.  i drill two holes and she just looks at me.  did i do something wrong? Yes! she laugh-yells at me.  she points tot he wall and suddenly it’s all mapped out.  the space for the tv is taped off and labeled.  it wasn’t there before was it?  or maybe it was and i just didn’t see it.  i offer to patch up the wall for her.  i was so far off.  and i drilled a hole high in the left corner.  why?