Cold, dark, and empty. Those were the first three words that appeared in my mind the moment I saw the red building that we called "school" sleeping after sunset. It rested at the corner of a relaxed neighborhood and was surrounded by small houses. There were no streetlights; only the headlamps of cars that seldom passed by lit up the path. I grabbed my flashlight and flicked the switch. Much brighter. The school was surrounded by a short red fence. I jumped over it with little effort and began strolling around the premises.

Large glass eyes watched me as I walked. During the morning they looked like windows, but at night they resembled mirrors. Damp grass crunched underneath my small feet. Ahead I saw fields of red, green, and blue. Courts. They were guarded by tall green fences, their metallic arms shielding them from intruders. Next to the courts was a colorful playground. I smiled as I imagined little children running around the playground and sliding down the slides. I glanced to the courts. I saw my younger self running across the basketball court, jumping high to catch the ball only to fall on the wrong foot. I spent the next three weeks limping and dreading staircases.

I opened the door and stepped inside the building. Dull green walls were covered by bulletin boards and shiny posters. On the left side were plastic chairs and tables, sitting next to a row of booths. The canteen. It was here where I met my best friend. She was sitting alone at the far table next to the drinks section when I approached her. The two of us had a bit of trouble looking for people to eat with during lunch break. I clutched my stomach. I almost thought I smelled fried pizza from one of the booths.

I opened another door and turned right. Straight ahead was the library, which I often visited, and next to that was the lobby. On my left was the school fountain, which sat in front of the school's finance building. It wasn't a conventional fountain, which had many tiers and clay statues spitting endlessly; it looked more like a plate of rocks, with jets of water shooting from hidden geysers. I never dared to venture near it, even when turned off, for fear of getting drenched.

I went upstairs and passed by a row of classrooms. I have spent four years here, and out of those four years I loved my third year (when I was in 9th Grade), and hated my second year (when I was in 8th Grade). I glimpsed inside two classrooms. In one classroom I saw myself and the rest of the class (including the teacher) chortling to a joke my friend made. In the other room I saw myself sobbing as the world watched. I edged closer to the latter classroom. I paid attention to one particular girl. She was one among the crowd. She had a sympathetic frown, but in her eyes I saw a glint of schadenfreude: her delight in my downfall.