My lovely Old Kenyon empty white room, how I love you! The fact that there is nothing placed on your concrete walls is truly a sight to behold, and not a problem. I love my smooth tile floor, with little dust motes forming an “impromptu carpet” of sorts. But more than anything else, I love my little window latch that, at first glance, appears to be a small kneeling man. Hello little kneeling man :) !!!!

Every remote class, every time I wake up, and every time I go to sleep, it is literally impossible for me to do anything but stare directly at him, and oftentimes I do shed some tears. Twisting my latch is one of the most emotionally complicated things I have ever done. On one hand, I love running the heel of my hand down his cold, metallic body. However, every time I go to lock my window, I can’t help but feel guilty for interrupting him when he appears to be deeply in prayer. And on another note, if I turn my latch, am I hurting him?? Am I doing something to his spine?? What if it feels good to him?? What if it relaxes and soothes him?? Every night I thrash and thrash and cannot stop thrashing because I am bombarded by infinite questions about my little man. Even after I wipe the sweat droplets from my furrowed brow, I cannot seem to work through these predicaments, and I suspect that they will haunt me forever. Let me do a little thought experiment, and you can imagine what you might choose to do.

October. A brisk breeze blows through your window. A Wednesday afternoon. Your professor taps on their webcam with a gnarled fingernail and says, “Hey! Hey! What are you looking at? Y/N… tell me it’s not what I think it is.” But it’s exactly what they think is. Your eyes are completely glazed over, and doctors later would describe you as having had “a whole new type of brain thing occur, like a complete manual brain override.” The entire room goes black and a spotlight shines on the latch. Due to the Tom and Jerry-esque lump on your head (from the brain thing), the latch starts swaying, quivering, and dancing like the trickster god he is. The professor’s voice sounds like a little buzzing bug in the background to you as the latch quadruples in size and reaches out its brass hand to you before it calmly whispers, “Care to join me?”

So? What would you do? I know what I would choose. If anyone else sees a similar small kneeling figure in any area of their life, please contact me as soon as possible, as I am conducting some important research. Thanks for reading!