The vibrant leaves surrounding my body fall daintily on the gravel sidewalk. They paint the ground with warm colors and glean in large clusters in the dry grass. The air is crisp, piercing my throat as I breathe it in. I pull my knitted scarf above my cheeks and nose and place my hands in the pockets of my flannel. I shift my attention back to in front of me. The campus is now visible.     

    For as long as I can remember, I have always dreamed of going to college. It seemed like an unlikely reality for me, though. I grew up in a poor family. We never had a superfluous amount of anything. We barely had enough money to even support ourselves. It wasn't until recently that my mother completed her own college classes and was awarded her doctorate. Her new job as a medical surgeon greatly increased my family's financial balance. 

    What made my mother's journey so treacherous was a change in the world. Women everywhere were protesting for their rights and equality for all humans. Most men weren't too happy with these outraged women. It wasn't common for women to work in high-paying jobs, for example, as doctors. But, we no longer have anything to worry about. Women are treated with respect now and have more opportunities to create a life for themselves. 

    A gust of wind pushes through my dark hair. Large oak trees line the sidewalk, laying down the burgundy leaves, like someone rolling out a red carpet. My brisk steps carry me closer to the college. My mother, a very tall and thin woman, bundles herself deep in her tan overcoat. Some of her black hair gets caught inside of it. Her boots crunch the fragile debris as she speeds up her pace.  

    "Hey Mom," I say while still walking forward. I see her turn to me out of the corner of my eye.

    "Yes, Bri?" She rummages through her coat pockets and pulls out her phone to check what she has missed at work so far. 

    "What if this isn't the one?" My nerves take control of my brain and blurt out whatever is on my mind.

    "Like, what if I don't find one that I love? I don't want to be stuck in some place for a good chunk of my life and not love it." The smell of pumpkin spice from a nearby coffee shop fills the air between us. The scent evokes memories from my childhood. 

    College was my life, because I had to get a job. If I didn’t get a job, I would never be able to become successful. If I never become successful, I would never be able to provide for myself. If I am never able to provide for myself, then, well, I would have nothing. 

  "Don't stress about it, Brianna. You have plenty of time. You just became a senior."

  She speaks calmly, clicking the letters on her phone’s keyboard. I try to shake away the fear leeching onto my vulnerable body. I can feel it prying at my heart, increasing the rapid pumping with every step I take. I walk with my hands tucked into my pockets as the campus inches closer. A few wandering students stand outside the entrance, holding their textbooks and with backpacks slung loosely over their collared shirts. All of the students I can see are boys, some neatly put together, while others look like they just rolled out of bed. My steps lead me right in front of the college’s entrance. 

    The building towers over me, its large bricks embellishing its structure. A series of smaller buildings sprout from the main one, like vines growing from a tree. Some bricks look chipped and weathered. While observing the building, a student shoulders past me. He reeks of cologne and a sour attitude. 

“Watch where you’re going,” He whines like a toddler. Confused, I turn to him and deliver a cold glare. 

    “I wasn’t even moving. Maybe you should watch where you’re going.” 

    The boy scoffs and fixes his collar. “Whatever. Have fun picking up your brother.” Then the strange enigma leaves.

    “Brother? I don’t have a brother?”  I think to myself. It’s fine, that’s not important right now. Now that I’m finally here, at the place I’ve always dreamed I‘d be at, I have to make a good impression. I straighten myself out, tucking my scarf into my flannel so as to not cover my face. I bend down and brush the resonating dirt off my shoes. 

    I head through the doors with my nose held high in the air. A man in a black suit and hair slicked back in a fluid sweep stares wide-eyed at me. I panic. Was there a bug on me? Was my makeup smeared? The man