Once it was not so late, but it felt like night, on a

Wednesday

during the purgatory between

Thanksgiving

and 

winter break

, when the semester was still technically ongoing, but everybody had already begun studying for finals.

I hadn't realized how early the nights came until crossing that bridge. I was used to having my walk back to my dorm being lit by the evening sunset. I had made this same walk just before Thanksgiving break. Could one week make such a difference?

I guess on the frays, light and dark can feel a world of a difference. You ever notice how quickly evening goes from lit ambient to night? It happens so fast you can't even prepare for it.

The 

bridge

felt emptier. Perhaps people were more prone on staying in when it was dark. One foot followed by another I made my way over the

river

. I didn't want to look over because then I might stop to enjoy the view. I should just get home as soon as possible right now. One step. And another.

On the other side a car temporarily blinded me when it hit a bump and it's headlights shone at me at an inconvenient angle. Then I noticed just how loud everything was. The motor of cars, students yelling out into the street. As I made my way closer to my dorms, the sounds of boys screaming at each other while playing

video games

rang from the windows.

They always played 

Super Smash Bros.

a game featuring an ensemble of 

Nintendo

characters. A lot of the boys in my dorm liked to play it... or at least many of the ones who were the most eccentric and apparent. I'm sure there were quiet boys who didn't announce to the entire hallway and cafeteria about what they were doing, and I'm sure they did a wide variety of things. But no matter where I went, if I were to just use my ears I would think that the only thing that happened in the boys section was a lot of Super Smash Bros.

The appeal of the game evaded me. My 

ex

had been into it as well. And back when I was fixated on making him feel my affection I would spend hours watching him play. Listening to his commentary about how some move he did was the right one or how he could've done it better. He would throw antics about this and that. It would be entertaining, but I never felt what he felt for the game. I just enjoyed his enthusiasm.

That enthusiasm followed wherever we went. Whether we were going out to the movies, or going out for a drive through the country.

Once we got to 

college

was when that enthusiasm waned. He ended up becoming more somber. Initially I thought it was the 

weed

, but now I believe he began smoking so much because of his depression. Not that he was clinically depressed or that he resembled the clinically depressed.

In fact, at the time they wouldn't even call what my ex was going through depression. They'd label it a normal moody phase that boys went through. Times have changed the way we view things.