Flash! Fiction 3 by Peter McMillan - HTML preview

46

Willard was the first person on campus I met. We'd literally been thrown together at the bookstore when I tripped on a fold in the carpet and spilled my entire first semester on the floor at his feet.

I readied myself for the abuse of an upperclassman, but he didn't yell or laugh. He looked at me, then at the books, then back at me.

It was as if he was fascinated by the collection — an unusual one, I suppose: Western Civ, Physics, World Lit, Zoology, Economics, and Latin.

"That's quite a load you're carrying. First semester?" he asked.

"Yeah. Haven't decided my major," I answered.

"I hope you're just as eager your senior year. I'm Willard."

"That's the challenge, isn't it? I'm Gray."

"You get kidded about that, don't you?"

"Yeah. But it's like water off a duck's back ... sort of."

"One day it will be. I get the same thing. Anyway, let's get your pile of books together and go to the checkout. We can grab a coffee next door. I'm meeting a friend, and I'll introduce you."

He had only one small volume — Wittgenstein.

"Wittgenstein, huh?" I asked. "I don't know ... him?"

" Him, Ludwig. I'll give you a crash course in linguistic philosophy sometime."

"Never heard— "