APRIL 2005

> INTO THE SUNRISE | justy barnett

The stars glistenedóno; they fogged in and out of existence. Itís a big city; remember? In the darkness we walked on campus. Aimlessly, it seemed, the sun scarcely a blip somewhere beyond the horizon barely out of view. The campus seemed quite small as we traversed it in darkness. He smoked a mandarin mint cigarette and left the butt on the ground somewhere on one of the first paths pre-daylight. We circled a portion and found ourselves standing on the corner waiting to cross the street. The sun was beginning to send a faint glow over the buildings. We passed the high school, all the students rushing to get to class. So many different kinds of people... Two girls waited in a car chatting until they abruptly swung open the doors and made for the school. A car paused as we passed by the school entrance on foot. A few seconds more heíll have to wait, I thought, factoring it into the grand scheme of things. We walked down that street, passing cars and lights and signs and I vaguely wondered if we would end up where we were the previous night. We didnít. Our feet carried us on without complaining. But the conversations that had been begun at the start of the walk were most interesting. Life and love and death and God and morals and pain and pleasure and fear and more. Thereís no such thing as coincidence. There was a reason we were out there this morning, walking the cold streets and conversing in a way in which neither of us had previously conversed with another being. How is that possible? How can a morning walk turn into a two and a half hour conversation that is deeper than thought possible? Weíve not even known each other a full three months yet. It feels like Iíve spent years already. My sleeping has suffered, but you have to sacrifice certain things in order to have experiences. Thinking back, I now have experienced ice skating, rollerblading down ramps, tattoos, seen tongue piercing done, been to a skating rink, seen a number of movies I wouldnít have otherwise seen, learned how to survive with lack of sleep, flat-out skipped class, had a temporarily uninhibited nature, done certain physical things, not to mention pull an all-nighter just spilling over to today. All along the walk, we spoke of things that came to mind. Spiritual conversation seemed to go on all the way to Ormsby and probably beyond if my memory of street signs serves correctly. We went a street past that, weíd walked to downtown. Some random woman asked us for a cigarette but she wasnít given one. The sun had been up for a while by then. We found our way to a large underpass that we sat under for a time. We spoke of fears and fearlessness. My popsicle legs began to feel a little warmer. We walked down and then took an overgrown walkway to avoid backtracking or winding up farther out than we were supposed to, that wasnít what todayís walk was to consist of. We walked through St. Stephens cemetery. I saw gravestones that said ďMarshallĒ and ďYatesĒ and those are the only two I recall being familiar. Friends of his, although the former is simply oneís first name and the latter is oneís last name. We walked around the block and found our way back on to the road that leads to campus. We walked again on an earlier path and noticed his cigarette butt in the same place he had tossed it. We played pool again, and then ate breakfast. Strange, really, how everything from the night before seemed like night, then everything after the walk seemed like day. The morning felt like a Saturday, perhaps because the day before seemed like Friday since it was the last day of classes. And then the walk itself ...a transition of sorts? It was so strange, but oddly fitting. Yes, that was meant to happen, but for what purpose? I couldnít say, and I donít think he could either. I went back to my dorm for a couple hours, then back to his dorm. We were going to watch a movie, but kissed and slept instead. We mustíve only slept for an hour and a half, two perhaps. He had to go to work. I rubbed my eyes and watched him put on a pair of dressy black shoes. I canít explain, but it hurt to see those dressy shoes, he always wears his white shoes around me. He changed shirts a few times before he was pleased with his outfit. With good reason, of course, he had a date this evening. She mustíve finally agreed to go out with him, because he hasnít been around tonight. Iím jealous; Iím tired. I need to sleep. Everything will be all right after a good nightís rest; I can try to tell myself. Iím going to go home with him this weekend. How does that work? I donít know. Weíll go to a dance club; weíll go see some of his friends. I wonder where Iíll sleep. I hope thereís a comfortable couch. I still vaguely hope heíll call me tonight once she returns to her place of residence. I am full of foolishness, I know. What might tomorrow bring? I canít imagine not seeing him. Thereís got to be a reason for this ...but what? Iíve spent so many hours with him; I couldnít even begin to count them. And somehow, that has to be all right with me.

> BIOGRAPHY | about the author

Justy Barnett is a freshman at the University of Louisville, where she serves as President of The Giles Corey Press. She loves to write whether anyone else likes her work, although her aim is to eventually become a renowned writer.