I had coffee four stories up on the side of a building today.

Stylized, rickety, ancient looking fire escapes cling to the sides of the chemistry building on Parrington Oval and that’s where I took my third coffee break of the day. 
 I find myself with more time on my hands than I’d ever like to admit these days and so I’ve taken to exploring the new pseudo-city I call home, the University of Oklahoma.

Its wistful up there, overlooking campus, noticing how few people look up from their phones or the street to see me looking down.

No one notices me up there; I’m not sure how I feel about that yet.

You can see down to campus corner on one side and over to the Catlett School of Music on the other, the stained glass windows reflecting blue and green depending on where the sun in coming from.

I feel dissonant up there. I’m at once peaceful and chaotic, the sense of calm quiet knocked out of proportion by the vertigo and overwhelming impulse to lean out over the railing. I’m lonely and at the same time solipsistic.

I want this to be a place I can come to relax, think things through, but I know that at some point I’ll ruin it for myself and end up bringing a friend up to show off my new haven.

I stayed up there long after I’d finished the tall cup of coffee I picked up at the Bookmark. It kept tipping and trying to blow away in the wind without any liquid inside to stabilize it, but I kept righting it and sat crouched on the top landing of the fire escape.

If you’d looked up and craned your neck you may have just seen the red ribbon in my hair and nothing else.

More likely, you walked by, hurrying, harried.

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