Amiel stares at the computer. His head itches. He scratches it as if wanting to get rid of his entire scalp. The noise of an airplane catches his ear, but he ignores it, because he really wants to poke his nose. He keeps his hands to himself, because the teacher is in the room, and she does not like him poking his nose in her presence. So, Amiel folds his hands on his lap and thinks of sweetbreads.
