Seeing someone get “tapped” in broad daylight.
SEEING SOMEONE GET “TAPPED” IN BROAD DAYLIGHT.
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It was a Tuesday, the kind of crisp autumn day that makes our campuses feel both ancient and vibrantly alive. Sunlight filtered through the old trees, dappling the main quad where students hurried between classes, lost in textbooks or lively debates. Then, a subtle shift in the air. A group, maybe three or four of them, moved with an almost unnerving sense of purpose. They weren't wearing costumes, nothing overtly dramatic, but there was an unmistakable gravitas in their stride, a shared understanding etched into their expressions.
They moved towards a student sitting alone on a bench, absorbed in a laptop, perhaps working on a thesis or an application. Without a word, one of them extended a hand and lightly touched the student's shoulder. A tap. Not a friendly pat, but a distinct, ceremonial gesture. The student looked up, startled, then slowly, a recognition dawned in their eyes. A nod. A quiet word exchanged. And just like that, the group dissolved back into the campus flow, leaving behind a moment charged with unspoken significance.
For those of us who saw it, the scene was a tableau of our institutions' deeper layers. Was it an invitation? A summons? What did that single touch signify for the one chosen, and for the life they were about to step into? The whispers followed, of course, but the real story was in the silent shift, the public acknowledgment of a private world. It makes you wonder what choices were made in that brief, sunlit exchange, what doors opened, or closed, forever.