February 7, 2019

I was in a League of Legends game with voicechat enabled. Someone with a thick Australian accent got tilted and started blaming the team for our recent losses. The leader of the call was talking about banning someone from the call before we got a chat notification that someone was kicked out. It turned out that they clicked the wrong name and accidentally kicked someone who wasn’t even talking. We laughed off the mistake as we admitted that we were all tired and continued playing.

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We were sitting on the couch inside an old storage building watching Netflix on a screen projected onto the wall. I had only just arrived and it seemed that everyone was still sifting through the trailers.

I woke up and slowly reached for my dream journal by my bed. I started writing in the notebook with as much detail as I could muster. I found myself writing at such a slant that I was eventually writing orthogonality to the direction I started.

Someone mentioned that there was a party tonight in the old building downtown. As we walked across the quad, I asked if this was a “secret” party - meaning that its existence was only communicated through word-of-mouth instead of being broadcasted somewhere. They wouldn’t give me a straight answer.

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The school bus monitor asked my friend how long they had been taking the bus and guessing that they’d only been here for two years. It was actually his fourth year and we were about to graduate.