Renée Errant
May 08, 2012 1:48 AM
Public Showers Aren't Always So Bad by Renée Errant
Last class of the day. Renée rushed out, beaming, tugging off her school robes the moment she entered the locker rooms. Thinner, athletic robes replaced them, a soft white sheet draping her form, curious light brown designs patterning the texture. Her hair brought back out of her face, twisting the curls into a messy bun that couldn’t stick to the mandated formation, slumping over her shoulder. Good enough, so long as her vision was clear, nothing marring the spectacular view of the day. She grabbed her Febre, mounting it for one last time, not so eager to part with it. “One last great ride,” She let her hand graze the wood, its sleekness faded and chipped away through ardent wear. “I’m going to miss you.” Knees bent and feet kicked off, now she was rising, further and further away from the Arizona heat and into the beautiful shimmer of rainfall, miniscule cool splashes along her robes, hair and skin.“Ahhhhhahahaha!” Her body leaned to the side, curving around the stadium slowly, leaning forward, bending and urging speed, tilting her head back and stretching out her tongue, catching the splattering liquid. Her laughter mingled with the light shower of rain, overlapping with the pitter patter pitter patter against her darkened skin. “Hahahaha!” The stadium grew into a gradual blur. Flying faster, moving faster, weaving in and out of cold droplets trying to tag her. ‘Too fast, too fast, can’t catch me!’ She let her hands release, arms fling free, steering with her body, shifting her hips to dictate direction, squinting through the rain. Toward one end of the pitch where the goals loomed, circling the middle post and reaching out, fingers grazing the cold metal. She’d forgotten how peaceful it could be, not always frustratingly exciting, when it was just her alone flying.
Hands back on the wood, body leaning back and Febre tilting higher, rising further to try and see more of the Arizona sky. The rain began to fall faster but still little more than a drizzle, the barest of showers. She appreciated water most when caught in the expanse of a desert. Curving, tilting, hips shifting, Renée sensed a foreign presence outside herself and peered down, trying to catalogue and identify images and shapes like shadows beneath her flight and beneath the droplets of rain. Alone was preferable but the sheets of rain gave her unprecedented privacy and the pitch seemed, to her, able to accommodate more than just one student for that day. “Afternoon!” She sent a little wave down toward the unknown and then resumed her flight, charting her path through each droplet, easing in against the wood of her broom, delighting for as long as she could in its final flight.
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Renée Errant
Public Showers Aren't Always So Bad
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Renée Errant
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