My oversized flannel drapes over my black attire as I head toward the high school in the rain. Clarinet in hand and earbuds in, I open door four leading into D hall. I walk with a blank expression to the only room I can direct myself to in the entire school; the band room.
Fifteen minutes left until rehearsal begins but the room is already packed. I take my seat on the end of the first row and quickly exchange the broken music stand ahead of my chair for the duplicate one chair in from mine. As I assemble my instrument I see out I the corner of my eye a figure approaching me.
I've grown accustom to none of the people visiting my section being there to converse with me. I place the reed on my mouth piece and turn the screws on the ligature. I am pulling my well used clarinet to my mouth for warmups when the figure's voice burns into my eardrum from the seat beside me.
My face goes red. I'd recognize that voice in a second flat if I were def.
I'm so flustered by the shock of the moment I don't comprehend anything that was said to me.
I respond with the utterly embarrassing, red faced, slack jawed "Huh?"
YOU ARE READING
spare.
Short Storyspare is a collection of short stories and marvelii quotes about how i feel i am placed in this world and experiences the have changed me. some details and events have been altered are created from scratch.
