Was it steam or fog? Was there any difference, really? Hot and cold are relative, like so many things these days. It could, of course, have been both. Whatever it was, it was congealing with the sweat and assorted sprinkles of filth in her palms as she pushed her way forward through the parking lot. You can wash your hands quite easily these days, but wheels are different. Her tires left thin muddied trails behind her as they dried, like brushes running out of paint. Yet it was the grit that lingered in discolored splotches and spires, waiting to be crushed and fall away. Feet leave partial approximations of our motion, but when she looked back at her trails they felt eerily revealing.
Shannon both did and did not want to be here. It was the first day of college. She had spent a gap year, and then another one, and then a few more after that learning all about what she didn't want to do with her life, and finally she was doing something different. She couldn't quite tell if this was rig