Window Cracks

▶️The Tank◀️

"Den Myko."

That stops my thought train.

From what I have just learnt with a divided attention span, I am supposed to say, "Present?"

Okay.

That is fine.

You forgot to reply. My subconcious steps in.

It is too late. The children, who all unsurprisingly look my age, stand in the cold, dull, grey and white hall with several doors for registration, and they sharply turn around and look at me like they are waiting for something so important to arrive so that, just by their stares, it would not blow up on its way.

I decide that I am in no rush. I feel humorous.

I take them in.

From left to right, I scan them. I study a boy who has glasses that are evidently too small for his head, and the boy next to him, shivering, is wearing a pair of shorts. I think about my attire that is not that impressive, but still covers all my limbs in this chilly weather. Then I notice that there is a girl who looks nauseated. In front of her is a scruffy boy who looks like he has not taken a bath for a good amount of time for him to start emanating sickening gases. I look around him and I see that there is a whole gang of children turning green because of him. I move on to the next batch of the class, there is a girl who looks like she had just awoken from-

"Mr Myko."

My thought train comes to a halt.

I quickly look at the teacher, the booming voice conducting my thought trains. He is definitely in his forties. His head is slightly tilted and he looks comfortable like that. He is wearing a black jacket on top of his black attire, just like Trace. He looks at me with impatient eyes that look like I should have said something a while a-

"Mr Myko! Are you present?"

In utter disbelief and confusion, I nearly burst out laughing. The man is looking at me straight in the eye and I am in his immediate vicinity, here, standing, breathing, yet he is asking me if I am present. He only wants my physical presence for all he and I care, but then I look at the children. They all give me this, "Yeah, are you here?" look. I would be drowning in tears of laughter at this point.

"Yes... Present."

My voice was hoarse.

I recover. How do they know me? I believe it has been obvious, since I have been standing in my own space, and they all seem familiar with each other. I am new, and I was silent during arrival time. I will probably become "the new one with the simple name."

I quickly resume to my scanning of the rest of the children before they turn back around. Some are now relieved to have borne witness to me finally answering and are returning to their original positions.

But.

There is a girl. She looks at me like she successfully avoided the plague by cheating the gods. It is a look of guilt. From the distance between us, surprisingly, I can see it in her eyes.

And her eyes.

They are the most unique things I have ever seen. Apart from the guilt that glazes over her pupils, they're turquoise, with silver and dull green lazering from each of their cores. I quickly study them as the turquoise possesses the texture of silk fabric that is dancing about in a gentle breeze. The meek streaks of the silver and green remain still, like window cracks that are just window cracks against a heavy rain.

She looks worried but she is fair skinned; different from our pale. Her hair is jet black and is tied into a messy ponytail and loose tendrils weakly sway with her minimal movement on the sides of her face.