I was so happy to come back to a silent hall and university in early January. Most of the residents were still at home for the holidays, and the few stragglers left were of the working variety and did almost nothing to disturb. The entire campus was blanketed with the calming quiet of absence.

And then They returned.

Suddenly my evenings were punctuated by shouts and yells from one corridor to the next; the bathroom stalls were always full and the lines for everything got longer. Cooking was no longer a solo affair and the study room was never empty. Here, people. There, people. Everywhere, people – people!

They were all telling me “Happy New Year” for some reason. It’s January 20, I want to tell them. The year is already more than twenty days old. That’s practically a lifetime for house flies. It’s not new any more.

Mostly I just want to retreat into some quiet enclave of obscurity.