Holiday

It's quiet.

Too quiet. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. 3:59AM, the digital numbers shown very clearly in contrast to the dark night. I put my phone back on standby, turn my gaze to the stars. Little pixies, dancing, flickering, swimming in a soup so black it can't be fluid.

Suddenly, a bright light approaches. I cover my eyes with a hoodie sleeve, and a train of taxi cars rush by and park temporarily by the curb. The driver who pulled up first, turned off the engine and stepped out of his car, leaving his headlights on. He was a man in his fifties, looked healthy and spoke with a voice to back it up. He looked at me, and said, "You need a ride, kid?" I told him, "No, I'm good. I'm not actually leaving."

The driver laughs heartily, and follows up his first question, this time with a curious undertone to his inquiry, "What are you doin' out here at 4 in the morning? Don't you college kids normally catch up on sleep during the Holiday?"

This question took me by surprise. I had completely forgotten that Holiday had arrived. I had been so busy, that it had completely slipped my mind. I thanked the driver for the notice, and ran back to my suite. When I opened the door (which was no longer propped open), everything dawned on me.

My suite was completely pitch dark, single rooms with all doors open, things rummaged through, missing clothes, electronics, people. The only response in the entire suite was an echo coming from the bathroom. After finding no one in the suite, I walk into the hallway, checking for other people. I called a few friends, texted a few others, trying to reach out. No use, no response. I ran down the stairs outside again, but the taxi drivers were already gone. There I was, standing alone in the middle of a larger network of labyrinths, unable to locate my way out. It's quiet.

Too quiet.