20130823.1712

The day is done.
The week is done.
The stacks of papers are graded.
The email is answered.
The students are either satisfied
Or they do not care,
And I am well off either way.

I am the last one in the building,
I think.
I hear nobody else.
No other conversations echo through the halls.

There is something special
In being the only one in the building,
Writing as a Friday moves toward evening
And people move to go
Out
On the town
To see one another
To enjoy themselves
To enjoy each other
And maybe it is depressing that I do not

Or maybe it means that I already have what I need
That I need not go out from myself to find something worthwhile
That I am in such possession of myself that I can focus on
What needs doing.

There is always more that needs doing.