stationary.

nine

the boy walks for a bit more

until he reaches his old middle school

in which he walks though,

bile collecting in his throat

as he remembers school incidents.

he peers through the classroom windows,

running his callused hands along the lockers

until he bumps into his eighth grade english teacher

'louis? i haven't seen you in ages! how are you?'

the boy does nothing

but give her a light hug and a quiet 'thank you'

and he scurries away

the teacher's eyebrows knit in confusion, but she continues her work

little does she know the boy's fate

in what is now

seventeen minutes.

+

please vote and comment! the end of this short story / poem / whatever you want to call it is coming soon!