Post by angel fox bolton on Feb 15, 2013 10:55:53 GMT -5
Angel was home for him mid-winter break of the college life. True, New York City was fast and exciting; full of interesting people who lived through interesting lives, but the old saying held truth. There is no place like home. He missed his family. Missed Troy and his parents. He also missed his friends, until he recalled he hardly had friends when he was here during high school. Maybe revisiting the same place wasn't such a good idea. However he chose to visit his old high school, check in on his old favorite teachers, and see how the place has changed. He planned on visiting some familiar faces of the neighborhood later if he could manage finding anyone who'd enjoy seeing his face again.
He couldn't believe it was going on nearly three years since he had graduated this very school. As he walked down the hallways, he felt odd. It felt as though this place was preserved in his memory since the day he received his diploma. It looked the same. But it felt so different. He knew he wouldn't see Mikayla rushing to class or Sharpay or Gabriella or anyone he knew. He brushed his hands on the lockers he passed until he reached the number 919. His old locker. How many times had he put in his combination, which he hardly recalled now, to get his books or hide his lunch or some other tedious daily routine at the time. He thought he heard the sound of footsteps approaching him, but he was too enwrapped in the essence of being here again.
He couldn't believe it was going on nearly three years since he had graduated this very school. As he walked down the hallways, he felt odd. It felt as though this place was preserved in his memory since the day he received his diploma. It looked the same. But it felt so different. He knew he wouldn't see Mikayla rushing to class or Sharpay or Gabriella or anyone he knew. He brushed his hands on the lockers he passed until he reached the number 919. His old locker. How many times had he put in his combination, which he hardly recalled now, to get his books or hide his lunch or some other tedious daily routine at the time. He thought he heard the sound of footsteps approaching him, but he was too enwrapped in the essence of being here again.
