Just Breathe

Gemma startles awake at the sound of her 8:00 am alarm blaring in her ears. Her body moves with purpose, making her jump out of bed and rush to the closet. The Honors college student has never been late to a lecture before, nor will she ever be. She grabs from the pile of clothes on her desk and rushes to the shower. In record time, she's out in five minutes: twenty seconds for the water to heat, sixty to violently scrub herself with odorless soap, forty to rinse, sixty to dig the shampoo down to her scalp, another sixty to rinse, thirty to get conditioner into the ends, and thirty to rinse for the final time. Gemma dries off and puts her clothes on, a worn pair of jeans and a club T-shirt, in under two minutes. She brushes her teeth in about the same amount of time, not bothering to dry her hair. There is no time. Not wasting a second, she runs back into the room to grab her backpack, keys, and phone. It's only when she's out the door that she bothers to check any messages and-

It's Saturday.

Gemma stops in her tracks, gasping for air. After hesitating for a moment, she turns back to her apartment and closes the door behind her. Now that she slows down, Gemma can take in the state of everything: absolute chaos. Clothes had been thrown on the floor and the desk, a blend of dull colors and fabrics that could be clean or dirty. Plates were stacked sky-high in the kitchen sink, and she couldn't remember the last time she tried to pick them up. She doesn't even spare a glance at the bathroom, knowing she would only find wet towels on the floor.

"What am I doing?" Gemma wonders aloud. What's the point of all of this? Things should've changed. She's supposed to be better. And yet...

Gemma blinks. She wastes time every second she spends here, so instead of thinking, she leaves. Exhaustion washes over her as she walks out of her building, but she can't bear to see the state of the grueling mess that is her room. So, Gemma wonders what she would have for breakfast instead.

The bus arrives at 8:45 am, filled to the brim with people. Gemma manages to find a spot, and she holds onto the handle as it continues on schedule. With how early it is on a weekend, everyone stands or sits quietly, keeping to themselves. Gemma rests her eyes. At 9:00 am, the bus reaches Gemma's favorite bakery, dropping her off right on time. She rushes inside, hoping that a line won't delay her too much. After ordering her regular - an everything bagel with cream cheese and salmon with a medium cappuccino - she waits. Five minutes go by.

Ten.

Fifteen.

Gemma picks at her nails, focusing on anything other than her hunger and the time going by. It doesn't usually take this long, but she should be grateful. As long as she's here she doesn't have to worry about-

Thankfully, the barista calls her order before she can finish the thought. Careful not to drop anything, Gemma grabs her bagel bag and coffee, hoping nothing else would cause delays.

She turns and crashes right into the man behind her. For about five seconds Gemma is left in shock. Her coffee had spilled right onto the man's shirt, a white shirt, no less. Terrified, Gemma blanks on what she can even say. She feels herself turn red under the weight of what she did and everyone's eyes on her.

"Oh, my goodness!" She backs away. "I'm so sorry! I should've been more careful-

"No, that's alright." Gemma looks up at his face, trying to find any hint of insincerity and failing. "I shouldn't have been standing that close behind you. Here, I'll help you out."

Gemma barely processes this before letting the man hold her stuff and lead her to an open table. She sits, wondering how she got here, how she got this lucky. He sits across from her, napkins pressed against the new coffee stain.

"Should I help you with that or-

"Seriously, it's fine." He says. "You can eat, if you want. It's getting kind of late for breakfast."

"Oh god, I am late!" Gemma tries to get up. "I'm so sorry for the trouble, but I have to go."

"Where exactly do you need to go?"

"I-" Gemma can't answer. Does she even need to go anywhere? Why is she in such a hurry? She feels her heartbeat grow faster. Air can't seem to stay in her lungs, and every time she tries again, it leaves. Panic sets in again, and Gemma is terrified.

"Listen," The man interjects. She can't even see him, but she holds onto his words. "I know it's not my place, but forget about where you need to go. Just breathe."

Just... breathe?

Gemma slows down, sitting and holding her head in her hands. She inhales and exhales, no longer counting the seconds for each breath. She lets herself feel when she should start and stop. Once she gets a hold of herself, she opens her eyes and starts eating her breakfast, realizing again how hungry she is.

She only notices the man still sitting there when she's done.

"I've never seen anyone eat a bagel that fast. You must've beaten the record or something." He smiles. "Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah," Gemma responds honestly. "Yeah, I really do. Thank you."

"No problem. I used to struggle with stress a lot as a freshman, too. It's not easy."

"That obvious, huh?" Gemma smiles, too. "Are all freshmen this... "

"Anxious?" He shrugs. "I wouldn't know. Nobody really talks about it. We're supposed to be adults, right? Keep a job, get to class, don't slack - that's pretty much all the information we're given."

"But, it is our responsibility." Gemma picks up a napkin. "There's no way to just run away and do whatever."

"Is that what you want to do?"

"In some ways, yeah, but I also want to be good at what I do."

"Can I ask what that is?"

"Graphic design."

"Damn, that was almost my major." He laughs at himself. "I figured out it wasn't my thing and went undecided."

"What have you been thinking about doing, then?"

"Culinary school, as drastic of a change that is."

"Actually?! I heard it wasn't easy, especially not here. Are you worried?"

"Not really." He runs a hand through his hair. "It's not easy, but I get to do what I love. I don't get anxious like I used to. I guess you could say I figured out how to grow up, in a way."

"Well, I'm glad you found that balance."

"You know what the funniest part is?"

"What?"

"I didn't figure this out until I cleaned my room. It was painful, honestly, but once I did, I realized how much time I'd spent worrying."

"How do you feel now?" Gemma asks.

"Like I finally started living."

After that, the two part ways. Gemma doesn't know if she'll ever see him again - she doesn't even know his name - but as she contemplates this on the bus, something tells her she will. When she makes it back to her apartment, Gemma hesitates in front of the door. She knows what's waiting on the other side for her, so she remembers what the man told her:

Just breathe.

Taking a deep breath, Gemma opened the door.