Early fall always had a way of littering the ground with leaves and staining Pauline’s car with pollen. However, her car was about five steps too far from the house to even reconsider taking any allergy medicine. Maybe one day when her indolence would evaporate, and she would know what it felt like to breathe freely in all seasons.

That day was but a distant fantasy to her since thoughts of possible meals constantly muddled her thoughts. Merging onto the surprisingly empty Long Island Expressway took no effort on her part, as she mused to herself about the new items on the Taco Bell menu, where quality meat quantity. The homemade sandwich perched passenger side was not nearly as friendly as a foil wrapped $5 burritos.

Pauline was running late; as usual. Taking the 30W exit ramp too fast jostled a couple of objects from the passenger seat; a cigarette box, a couple of pens, and the sandwich found a new home under the passenger seat. Despite being homemade, the sandwich was acting ungrateful. She swore under her breathe that Taco Bell would never do this to her.

Despite food being against her, traffic was flowing well up to the pre-Midtown Tunnel toll booths. Squirts of hyperactive taxis forced themselves into the too-narrow lanes. Nothing seemed right about the tunnels; they were too dim and seemed unsafe to pass; perhaps humans were never meant to zip around in little metal tubes through tight concrete pipes. Why did commuting always involve tubes? Why are all modes of transportation fast moving metal boxes? Who thought this would be safe?

Her Chevy was greeted by blinding streams of light as it roared out of the tunnel. She was still late. The terror of the tunnels would never hold her back from racing to meeting at the station. She was late, and Jason would be disappointed. In one flowing motion she flowed from 33rd Avenue to Lexnington.

She was late, and everyone will watch her walk in awkwardly. Just like the Board of Directors meeting last year. Man, she still felt the burning stares of the Undergraduate Student Government senators, who lost interest in their catered sandwiches after the disruption. Fake politico pricks. She was late. The light on 28th and Lexington was red. She was late.

A stream of students blocked her attempt to turn onto 26th Avenue. She was late. But not late enough to risk a student’s life. She was late. She was late. She was late.

The parking lot attendant shoved a poorly torn ticket into Pauline’s hand. She was late. The ticket for the lot was missing a corner, but it would still scan. She was late.

There are always too many students in the plaza during noon. She was late. They were getting in her way. She was late.

She shoved through them. She was late.

She did not care. She was late.

She finally arrived at Baruch, late.