The car started off in motion once again as the traffic light shone green. I stared out the window to glance at the school building. It all seemed familiar—so plain, casual. The car shook as we drove past the chains that lay on the ground at the entrance; then we came to a stop in front of the building.

The building was not especially magnificent, ugly, tall, or flashy; it was a simple. The building was too plain to leave a deep impression.

Teachers greeted the other students and me as we stepped down from our cars. Some helped us open the car doors; some simply greeted us.

I helped myself with the door and stepped out of the car. I greeted back to the teacher and started for the building.

Everything looked slow, or even stopped. I glanced at anything, everything that I went past and noticed details of things that I have never saw before. All the things seemed too familiar to be looked at a second time.

“Stairs.” I thought to myself. They were daily things that were suddenly blasting.

The sound of panting rang in my ears as I climbed the stairs. “One by one. Or two by two?”

Thoughts faded as I reached the fourth floor, the destination of the trip that seemed so long.

This is my school—Hsinchu American School.