Today

Leaving warren hall a half-hour ago, I saw tied to the trashcan outside the door a solitary powder-blue balloon with the word "TODAY" written on it in dark block letters. Earlier, it was one of three balloons that said "Vote," "Today," and something else, I forgot. My friends had sucked up the helium from the first two balloons at the start of the study session.

I started walking to my car, and when I got there I turned around to stare at the balloon swaying gently and looking hopeful even as it guarded the doors to hell. I walked back to the balloon, unfettered it and walked it to the middle of the empty parking lot, where I let it go and watched as it floated up, spiralling, eventually disappearing in the mist.