Darcy

                She sat in class, in the back row of desks, oblivious to what the professor was droning on about.  Whatever was on their agenda today did not compare to what was happening outside the window.  The movement of the air through the trees, the sound of the wind and the smells that the air carried into the room; this was why she always sat by the window when it came time for class. 
         At one point, when the wind seemed to slow, she picked up on a class discussion about how difficult the past assignment was for her fellow classmates.  Figures, she mused, I don’t pay attention but I tend to do just fine with the work.  In truth, she cared about the class, her assignments and even what the class was about.  But tonight, as usual, her attention was drawn to the outdoors. 
         Darcy wondered if any of her classmates were as distracted as she was in class.  The answer was an obvious yes, but not for the same reasons.  They fiddled with their phones, preoccupied with some concept of self-importance.  Some created questions to fill up the instructor’s time, infusing the questions with multitudes of prepositions and the word “like” used far too often. 
          “Am I obsessed with my own self-importance?” she thought to herself.
         Darcy knew the double-edged answer to this question; yes she was, but it was a different type of importance.  She needed to observe the elements, process them and apply them.  No one was ever the wiser when she stopped mid-walk between buildings and simply cocked her head to the side.  Even her professors never seemed to call her out in class.  Was she really that unassuming?  She must look like she was daydreaming in class sometimes, she thought, but somehow the professors never seemed to mind.  Perhaps it was the good grades that let her continue to fly below the radar.  Whatever the reason, she was constantly thankful for the lack of attention she received.
         Looking up at the clock, she noticed that class was almost over.  Soon, she would be able to go outside.  She would be able to feel the elements fully and absorb their energy.  The feel of the wind blowing through her hair, the chill of the cold on her skin and the smells of the decaying leaves.  The smells, she mused.  Here she sat, in a graduate class with a group of people who knew nothing about her.  She muffled a laugh…how on Earth would any of them understand.  Would they find it fascinating or more repulsive to know that their classmate, or student, did not go to the local café to get her dinner? 
              Darcy had a better, much more eco-friendly way of obtaining her meals.  No waste, no take-out boxes, no utensils.  She didn’t cook at home either.  Darcy had a side that no one at school knew about.  While the students hurried to secure a place in line at the café or dining hall, Darcy simply shed her skin and took the form of the vulture.