[h1][right][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/588109950006329429/604805291967774736/meir_header.png[/img][/right][/h1][table][row][/row][row][cell][img]https://i.imgur.com/bfUdZsk.gif[/img][color=2e2c2c]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/color][/cell][cell][center][color=2e2c2c]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/color]

	
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[color=dcdcdc][b][color=a9a9a9][i]W[/i] a y  D o w n  W e  G o ,  P a r t  I[/color][/b]
[b][color=a9a9a9]location:[/color][/b] MIT, Linguistic Department → P.J's Brewpub
[b][color=a9a9a9]interacting with:[/color][/b] Jack Wilkerson, [@hawkins]
[b][color=a9a9a9]◂◂  II ▸▸[/color][/b]  [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DwPWGUhEtP0][color=dcdcdc]Roundabout — Yes[sup]§[/sup][/color][/url][/color][/sup][/center][/cell][/row][/table][indent][indent][color=dcdcdc]There was no feeling quite like it, the sensation of running a finger down the hard-covered spine of a well-kept book. The weight of the pages carefully bound together to create one singular masterpiece. And then of course was the pièce de résistance, the intoxicating smell of old books and pages. The chemical compounds breaking down over time to elicit the savory and succulent aroma of vanilla flowers and almonds. It almost always sent a shiver down Meir’s spine before giving his skin a layer of goosebumps to match. His office was rather stacked in terms of how much space was occupied by shelves and cases lined with books, it was enough to rival a small library. One supposes this would be the kind of achievement and prize awarded to one of the most astute professors in their designated fields, just not this many. 

Regardless of whether or not he could go home after his lectures and office hours, Meir chose to stay on campus. It’s not like he had a wife waiting at home nor kids, a dog, any of that in all actuality. Without much responsibilities in the way, he took his work home with him or rather work became his home. Planting himself in his favorite chair he set his book down and peeled the front page open, exposing the title of the current work directly in view, it was titled [i]Ozymandias[/i]. The sonnet from 1818 was one of his favorites, 14 lines filled with wonderful allegories and imagery that left for several interpretations depending on the reader. Meir empathized with the broken statue, a once great leader left to history and buried in the sands of time with no one to notice. The crisp sound of the page flipping was music to his ears as he pressed on. 

[center][i]I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”[/i][/center]

His attempt to flip the page was cancelled out by the sudden vibration of his phone in his pocket. Putting his book on pause he tugged on a red ribbon and tucked it within the crease of page and closed it gently. It was probably one of his students asking for extra credit or creating some kind of somber and poignant story on why they were unable to hand in their assignment on time. Preparing himself for his next sob story he was astonished to see it was neither a colleague nor a student, but instead a Facebook group invitation. Now what they said was true, Facebook [i]IS[/i] for old people, but that didn’t mean that 24 was old. Instead he just used it for the messenger app to speak with friends and keep up to date on family matters. Perhaps a mistake? Intrigued he pressed on to find that it was from one of his ex-classmates, Jack Wilkerson. 

[b][color=a9a9a9][i]”Jack Wilkerson, Jack Wilkerson”[/i][/color][/b] he said in pensive thought, trying to match the face to the name. [b][color=a9a9a9][i]”Stupid, just click on her profile picture”[/i][/color][/b] quickly realizing his folly. Once the picture loaded, his expression shifted into nostalgia. Jack Wilkerson! The girl who barely made it to graduation after being on the edge of having missed to many days of school. And the girl who accidentally hit him in the head with an improvised weapon made from paper clips and elastic bands. The memory surged through his head creating a burning sensation in the spot of his forehead she managed to snipe. So why did she reach out to him of all people? He was no one, a shadow, a nerd. Meir had tutored her to ensure that she did pass her classes despite her lackluster attitude to learn. Plus, Jack was always a social butterfly and one to rotate between every social group imaginable. 

Meir would have been lying if the idea of a reunion of corralled ex-classmates wasn’t enticing to him. While he had nothing of show or importance in high school besides his grades, he had plenty to showcase now. What would he show off first? His superhuman physique he cultivated all these years to near perfection? Maybe introduce himself as [i]Dr. Maggid[/i] without coming off as pretentious. However, the thoughts of bragging about his accomplishments were quickly diminished when he read that their old high school was sentenced for decommission. His heart sank in his chest, the thought of losing all the memories (both pleasant and not so pleasant) struck something deep within him. Imagining the thought of losing his own institution that he called home drove the point even more. Even if his classmates didn’t show up, he knew he would. Who knows, maybe the school would allow their former valedictorian to collect any books they were unable to donate. 

His thumbs raced all across his keyboard, managing to scrawl a semi-professional email detailing his acceptance to the event he knew would go over jack’s head, at this point it was just second nature. Setting his phone down he reclined back into his chair letting out a deep sigh before closing his eyes, [b][color=a9a9a9][i]”Nothing beside remains. Round the decay.”[/i][/color][/b]

When his eyes opened it was a week later and finally the big day, the end of Ritman High. Meir had spent the day finishing up his recitations and lectures, ensuring all of his students had a fair amount of work to be done while he was away on personal time. This was probably a godsend to the students, no teacher meant they could fuck off and worry about the deadline the night of. With everything done and out of the way Meir packed his things and took one last look at his room before flicking the light switch off and heading out into his car. A sudden sensation of uneasiness accumulated in the pits of his stomach. Was he nervous to go back? To see everyone who looked at him funny? Who else would Jack have contacted and who was going to show up? Meir did his best to shake his thoughts and focus on the road ahead, anything else he could handle when they came up. 

Meir fingered the volume dial on his radio, blasting his music while his leg pressed hard on the gas letting out a vicious roar of his engine. Another notification popped on his screen, again from Jack, only this time it wasn’t a cancellation but instead something else. [b][color=a9a9a9][i]”So she found the time capsule. Man, I don’t even remember what I put in there besides my yearbook…that no one signed…except for Mrs. Brady”[/i][/color][/b] his mind clung to that thought and drifted off into a daydream. A few hours and two or three gas stops later, his car was seen turning the corner into the lot of P.J.’s. The engine and lights switched of, Meir stepped out breathing in the fresh Maine air stretching out his arms. The more things changed the more they stayed same it appeared. Literally everything was the exact same just as he had last left it. 

Meir took out his phone to let Jack know that he arrived, noticing that he was the first and only one to do so. Without waiting for a reply Meir walked in and looked around hoping to find a girl who looked like she didn’t give a shit. Low and behold there was non other than Jack sitting by herself besides a dirt encrusted capsule. Years of presenting in front of a classroom had prepared him for this, the same sweaty palmed nerdy boy wasn’t the same person that sat down next to Jack. [b][color=a9a9a9]“So, what you drinking?”[/color][/b] he asked whilst getting the attention of the bartender, [b][color=a9a9a9]“Harvey Wallbanger for me and another round of whatever for her on me.”[/color][/b] 
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