Coat, check; Cellphone, check; Notebooks, check; Case, check; Overwhelming desire to crash back in bed and pretend the world outside my window imploded, check. I mean, sarcastic jokes aside, I'm really, really not in the mood to leave. Not that I usually am, but still, I'm not sure, today feels different. I blame the weather. It's started snowing last night, and hasn't stopped still. We're not dealing with a blizzard here, so, school is still up, "thankfully". Nonchalantly, I leave through the front door, faintly warning my uncle about my departure before closing the door behind me. The streets painted with white, and light shades of grey are oddly calming. A true british-man, embracing its soil as if it was permafrost and its clouds as if a lake itself was watching over him. The walk between my home and my school isn't all that far, usually taking about ten minutes. The neighborhood isn't noisy, the streets aren't too crowded, it would be unfair to call this path, this walk an annoyance. In my case in particular, it's purely about what lies beyond it. It's like I can almost hear their voices already. It's like walking face-to-face to a really strong stream of wind. My body refuses, my mind used to reject the idea, until he died. Seeing the reaper through a mirror was enough for all the arguments I ever had to disappear, in a small poof. If they're still there, there's something in me now willing to accept that they are simply wrong. For whatever reason. I need time to think. Time away from the noise. Every second I can get. About twelve, thirteen minutes of walking, I arrived. The voices, loud as usual, greet me a few steeps before the front gate, even through my headphones. The chaos within those sentences, the lack of coherence, the self-centered attitudes, I really can't stop wondering how Chris lived with this, everyday, and still keep a smile on his face. I rush to classroom, as usual, the minutes before the teacher, or the "peace-maker", as I like to him, comes are heart-racing. Following my routine, I sit anywhere in the middle of the class, aiming for the left, closer to the doorway. Putting my bag under the table, I put on something from the Blue Oyster Cult on my phone and wait, head laid upon my arms, crossed, on top of the desk, waiting.