familiarity [narrative]

I stepped onto a campus sidewalk, two days after the rush of move-in and still unsure how to find my way to V-Dub from my EmWool dorm. The Main Green felt like a foreign field.

I remember staring at your face, confused about why you were extending your arm forward to shake my hand, completely oblivious to the fact that I’d been texting you for a while. I didn’t extend my hand. Instead, I scowled at you until you said your name. Then I said, “I’ll see you later,” and ran away.

I like the weather here. I like our eight-minute walk to Insomnia Cookies, where the lights are always on but the shop is always closed when we go. I like the moonlit skies at night—though not so moonlit that you can’t see the stars. I like the winding paths and the drivers who pause for seven seconds just so you can cross the road.

There’s the corner shop we walked past and then walked back towards, where we bought waffles dressed in strawberry sauce that dripped down our fingertips. I like that shop, too. Can we go there every morning? Not on Saturdays and Sundays, though—that’s when I have my Andrews granola bowl and end up with part of your burrito bowl.

I know I never said thank you to you as many times as I should have. I ran away from you without seeing if you followed — you did, though.

I’ve been lying in my bed ever since, my right leg outstretched, left leg carefully folded underneath. Karma, I suppose. But I never wronged you; I wronged someone else. I know I should have said I’m sorry sooner, but I didn’t. So, I’ll say it now, say it over here. I’m sorry.

We all sit together in a circle on Prospect Terrace and sing “Iris” by The Goo Goo Dolls, and I miss my high school friends. I give in to the urge to call and tell them that I love them. But in that circle, I find myself smiling. I love all of you, and I think you love me, too.

I’ll make more friends over the next four years, but I’ll keep all of you. Keep me, too. Text me if you ever need anything, and I’ll be there the way you were there for me.

If you walk to Insomnia again, I hope it’ll be with me.

I’ve been told friendships can’t be forced, but these are some that I’ll always want to hold onto. Thirty days may be too few to start calling everything routine, but it’s enough for me to know I don’t want it to end. Not now, not ever.
https://www.browndailyherald.com/article/2025/10/winding-mohunta

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