Kok Boru

He climbed the three half flights to his room. He had left the light on. “Like climbing up to my tower,” he thought, feeling satisfied. The indoor air warmed his limbs; the dusk had settled coolly on the racetrack. From that spot on the third turn he had watched the lights of a car, winding its way down from jailoo, the summer pasture. The headlights swung back and forth, now facing him, shining like one steady beam. The conversation listed from the surroundings – the power plant, ski hills, the governor’s house – to high school graduations and parties. “Who had come? Who stayed home?” He didn’t know. He didn’t know anyone who had gone, or what they had done, only that he was here now. Later he thought it had been strange to think of graduations on this first day of school.