Ordinary Urban People

Through the big window, I can see the town, a rather smaller city than where I come from, only as crowded. Several tall buildings rise above all others. The sky is colored dark blue, with strips of orange at the farthest end, at the horizon. The phone rings. It is mom. She wants to check if everything is OK. I tell her everything is fine. We hang up.
*
I turn around and look at the pile of books on the desk. Here, there is a pile of books almost everywhere. I remember I once read, in a commentary at the back of a book, that the writer has written about the lives of ordinary urban people who walk past us in the streets everyday, people we try not to hit when we walk past each other.
I think that, one day, I am going to read all these books.
*
My roommate comes back. He throws his book bag on his bed, at the corner of the room. My bed is at the opposite corner. He has just come. He is a freshman. I am a junior. He looks so determined, so ready to do something. His mind is always full of ideas, full of things he wants to do. So is mine. I think about the things in my mind. Many of them are things I was determined I was going to do some time in the future. Things I never did.
*
Mom calls. She says I sound kinda depressed. I think I do. But I tell her everything is fine. And that maybe I am just a bit homesick. We hang up.
*
I get up early. As days go by, I get up earlier and earlier. I get dressed and get out. During the first months, I remember, I never ventured beyond the confines of the dormitory neighborhood. Now I try more places.
I keep walking for a couple of hours. Little by little, the streets get more crowded. I look at passersby as I walk. I even stare at some of them until we finally walk past each other. Ordinary urban people. Several times, I have to draw myself out of the way so we don’t hit.
*
I look out of the window. Mom calls. I tell her everything is fine. We hang up.