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Fall 2022 Edition Prose Writing

A CAR PARK STANDS BESIDE A TALL OLD ELM TREE

[for years, it was quiet.]

ELM: Why did you come here?

CAR PARK: Come where?

ELM: This meadow. It used to be empty. I used to be here alone, and then they built you.

CAR PARK: I am here for the humans. They need me. They built me for a university. I am a part of something. Are you?

ELM: You are.

CAR PARK: Isn’t that nice? To be a part of something? I was made with a purpose. I know what I need to do here. Isn’t it wonderful, knowing you mean something to someone?

ELM: I wouldn’t know. I was not made to be a part of something. I came from nothing and now I am part of the Everything. I may not have as much meaning as you, but I bet I know more secrets.

CAR PARK: Like what? I know where everyone goes. I know when they come home.

ELM: But you don’t know why. I know why the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, why the squirrels don’t store their food beneath me anymore.

CAR PARK: Tell me, please.

ELM: Perhaps you’ll know, once I am dead.

CAR PARK: When will that be?

ELM: Soon, I think. The school is growing. They’ll need more cars, and less of me.

CAR PARK: That’s horrible.

ELM: It will be, but only for a while.

CAR PARK: Well, you know, when you fall, I’ll be there to hear you. I will listen to the wind for you when you are in the ground.

ELM: I know you will.

CAR PARK: I will be the one who mourns you.

ELM: That’s the thing, though. Knowing someone will miss me when I’m dead — I don’t think it’ll make leaving hurt much less.

[they watch the afternoon sky turn black with smoke. tomorrow, snow will fall.]

[for years, it was quiet.]

ELM: Why did you come here?

CAR PARK: Come where?

ELM: This meadow. It used to be empty. I used to be here alone, and then they built you.

CAR PARK: I am here for the humans. They need me. They built me for a university. I am a part of something. Are you?

ELM: You are.

CAR PARK: Isn’t that nice? To be a part of something? I was made with a purpose. I know what I need to do here. Isn’t it wonderful, knowing you mean something to someone?

ELM: I wouldn’t know. I was not made to be a part of something. I came from nothing and now I am part of the Everything. I may not have as much meaning as you, but I bet I know more secrets.

CAR PARK: Like what? I know where everyone goes. I know when they come home.

ELM: But you don’t know why. I know why the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, why the squirrels don’t store their food beneath me anymore.

CAR PARK: Tell me, please.

ELM: Perhaps you’ll know, once I am dead.

CAR PARK: When will that be?

ELM: Soon, I think. The school is growing. They’ll need more cars, and less of me.

CAR PARK: That’s horrible.

ELM: It will be, but only for a while.

CAR PARK: Well, you know, when you fall, I’ll be there to hear you. I will listen to the wind for you when you are in the ground.

ELM: I know you will.

CAR PARK: I will be the one who mourns you.

ELM: That’s the thing, though. Knowing someone will miss me when I’m dead — I don’t think it’ll make leaving hurt much less.

[they watch the afternoon sky turn black with smoke. tomorrow, snow will fall.]

Mia Vittimberga, ’26

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