The tap, click, tap of avid fingers dancing across well used keyboards fills my ears. The chatter of teenagers mix with the 80s music in Mr. Brown's Honors English classroom, a mixture that you wouldn't think would work well together but somehow does. I readjust myself in the hard plastic chairs and breathe a heavy breath. The constant symphony of soprano voices and the brass sound of the boys in my class wraps around me like slightly damp saran wrap. My whole body feels tight and cold as if I have looked into the eyes of Medusa herself. The air smells and tastes musty and cool like breathing in the scent of old blankets. The calm that Mr. Brown's room usually brings is absent today. The constant chatter and disorganization makes me feel jerky and tense. This feeling isn't an uncommon one in messy environments.
YOU ARE READING
Mountains and Ravines
No FicciónThis is a collection of short stories, essays, and paraphrases that I have written about myself, my friends, and my family. I've changed names, locations, and a few other things that that might link theses stories to them for their protection and my...
