Late at Night

In my Aspects of Poetry class I am sitting in the back seat waiting for the class to
end. It is only 8pm and I have another hour to go. I keep looking at my cell phone
checking the time but the more I stare at the screen, the time is going much slower as if it
had stopped. I look out the window and I could imagine how humid it is outside since it
is summer. It is also dark outside and then I realize that there are barely any buses at the
time. As I wait in class I notice the girl sitting two seats away from me just constantly
calling out about her personal experience relating to the poem that we have read. She
talks go on and on which was a bit annoying. What annoys me the most about her is that
every time she speaks, she just calls out in class even though our professor does not call
on her. I hear her voice again without having to look at her while I am staring down at my
notes. Holding a pencil drawing flowers on my notebook with my pink pen as I am
talking to myself in my head about her clear voice. She speaks so well and sounds
confident in saying anything even if it does not relate to the class discussion. My
professor just sits there in the front of the class letting the students lead the discussion
which is why I could not focus. Finally, the class ends and it is time for me to leave
campus. As I am walking outside away from the Powder Maker Building, everything
seems creepy with squirrels in different sizes everywhere and hearing the silence of my
footsteps. As I am waking down the steep hill from campus, I have music on high to feel
that I am not alone in this empty campus with few security guards. I hardly even walk to
the bus stop that is right across from the campus because I am aware that not many buses
come this late at night. The minute I reach the exit of the campus I make a left turn
heading to the Dunkin Donut shop where I have option of taking two different buses at
different bus stops. I stop right at the end of the sidewalk across from the Dunkin Donut
Qu 2
by the gate of the Queens College campus. I see a bus coming from one direction but I
am not sure which bus it is. I notice that it is Q17 bus since it makes a left turn, so instead
of crossing the street the Dunkin Donut shop I make a left turn when it is still red light for
me. I walk a little bit faster because it is a long walk just to cross that street. I fear that it
will turn green even though it is red as I cross the street. The driver from the other side
sees green light and quickly turns left hitting me at my right knee with her silver car. We
are in the middle of the street and I am at shock that this is happening to me. I do not
know how to react, at the moment I just want to get off the street. I see her angry face and
she throws her hand in the air saying “are you kidding me”. I am numb that I do not feel
the pain on my knee. My body freeze instantly of confusion and hurt. I respond to her
right after by slamming my hand at her right side of the window as hard as possible and
continue to feel numb once again. My voice suddenly gets louder as I yell at her at the
top of my lung. My body starts shaking with anger inside after getting to the side walk.
She drives away. Everyone are in their cars staring, waiting for the signal to change green.
As I get back on the sidewalk I miss my bus. Drivers pass by laughing or obviously
amaze that I am walking fine after the incident. The thought of what others think of me
worry me more than the pain on my knee. I wait for the bus to come and decide to check
out my knee on the bus but before that I notice there is a spot on the jean of my knee, the
color looks different. I panic and think it is blood at the moment but as I get on the bus, I
rush to the closes seat from where I swipe my unlimited metro card. I sit down and
quickly pull my jean up to my knee and see the red bruise. After rolling down my jean, it
turns out that the spot on my jean is the dirt from the car. I am relief. Still sitting in the
bus waiting to get off my stop, thinking that the spot on my jean is a reminder of the
horrible accident. The bruise is still there that is the size of a half a thumb but the red
swollen part around that bruise is about the size of my fist. Listening to my music on this
bus and continue to have flashbacks about the scene.