Day 3 - Glitter Bomb

Prompt: It all started when I opened a glitter bomb at my 9am lecture. 
An hour later, I found my boyfriend's dead body in the middle of the quad. 

Glitter Bomb

It all started when I opened a glitter bomb at my 9am lecture.  An hour later, I found my boyfriend's dead body in the middle of the quad.

And it just got worse from there.

I was running late, as usual, to my 9am lecture. It wasn't my class. I'm a researcher, introvert by nature, and most definitely not a morning person. But when Professor Dawson asked me to cover a couple of her classes, how could I turn her down?  She was my mentor, my dissertation adviser and a good friend. She was meeting her daughter in Europe for a last minute grand tour.

"You're ready. You can do it. It's just three classes. You've already done the work. Think of this as a polishing, a defense prep.  You know that's coming up. Soon.  Very soon."  Professor Dawson is very persuasive. I think it's because she's Doctor Dawson, Psychologist, before she's Professor Dawson, Physicist. I was doomed the moment I picked up the phone.

Soon, I harrumphed. Not if I don't finish. Not if James' late night binging that led to 3am calls to come retrieve him from whatever dive bar or pool hall he had stumbled into that night continued.

I was late. I was sleep deprived. And, so I just picked up the box on the doorstep, tossed it in my bag and raced over to campus. As I pulled into the parking lot, my phone pinged. James, of course. He wanted me to meet him outside the administration building on campus after class. In the “zen” garden. Somehow I knew this wasn’t going to be a peaceful, easy meeting.

I made it to class a bit before the start. Students were milling, whispering, mostly texting. I got a lot of those “Who the hell is she” looks as I unloaded my gear at the podium. But this wasn’t my first rodeo; I wasn’t going to “hush” them.  I waited. And waited. Eventually, the class sat and waited too.

*****It was all going fine until I started in on randomness, what we perceive it to be and what it really is. A quick loop through the numbers of pi, the Fibonacci sequence, Brownian motion and KERBOOM! The brightly wrapped box I had pulled out of my bag with everything else exploded in a surprisingly loud sound (for such a small box) and sent confetti, streamers and glitter into the air, heavily dusting the podium, me and the front two rows of seats. The glitter, being lighter, wafted on the air-conditioning currents and basically covered the entire room (and apparently two hydrangea bushes just outside the open window).

I stood there, slack jawed and speechless. After a shocked moment, the students laughed and applauded. I was still recovering as they filed out, one young man congratulating me on my excellent demonstration skills.  I didn’t find the note. One of the women from the back row had it tangled in her hair as she left. I caught her by the shoulder and took it. Its heaviness was due to the words cut out from magazines, pasted with the skill of an above average five year old. “Next one between the eyes”.

*****It took me 50 minutes to explain who I was, where the box came from and, repeatedly, that “no, it was not a planned part of my presentation”, timing to the contrary. And, no, to my knowledge no one hated me enough to kill me or want me dead. Security was not amused; neither was I. Grateful, yes. I didn’t have to clean that mess out of my kitchen or deep-pile shag carpeted living room (just don’t ask). Puzzled, too, but I thought it was some prank delivered to the wrong address.

But there I was again - late.  To an appointment I did not want to make. Was there any way to start this day over and just not?  To skip it entirely?  At least, as I hurried away, the day was not going to involve campus security again. So things were looking up.

*****Things were looking up. It appears I was to or I would not have tripped, sprawled really, over the khaki-wearing legs  “What the devil!”, I exclaimed. “Who the hell is napping on the sidewalk before lunch!”.  As I scrambled to my feet, ready to launch a blistering appraisal of the man, his ancestors and his choice of attire, I saw his face. The thin red trickle coming from the hole in his glabella, the odd color of his eyes, slackness of his jaw. And then the face as a whole, the face of James. The face attached to a motionless and cooling body. Of James. My James. My sometimes James.

I watch TV crime shows and cop procedurals all the time. I often mock the character who finds the body with the statement “Cue Scream”.  I told myself, and anyone who was listening, that my sangfroid would carry me through. I would behave rationally, coolly, logically.

I was so very, very wrong. It did take a while, though, for me to realize all the screaming was coming from me.

This time it took a lot longer than 50 minutes to get away from security. And then the police detectives. And the department head and college dean. The last two were trying to be consoling and comforting. I was numb. I told them I was going back to my car and then home. It had been a trying day, I explained. I keep repeating, as much to myself as them, “It’s done. It can’t get worse. The day can only get better.”.

*****Three hours later I woke up in the trunk of a car, bound and gagged. It’s going to be a long night.

#
#the100dayproject #MineolaRose #the100dayprojectEastTexas #CreativityRoseBlooms #100daysofdragontales