I was sitting in Spanish this morning, in the All-Alone seat every classroom has. We had a substitute teacher with a limp who told us not to talk, which we didn't, because you never know why things are important to people because sometimes they don't say.
It was real quiet and lonely and depressing, everybody just barely off, their internal clocks still clicking like the confused clap of someone finally realizing they're off beat and continuing to clap anyways.
The All-Alone seat is situated directly across from the windows, and outside these windows, a little ways away, across some brown grass and sleeping trees, are the windows of another branch of the school.
And across from these windows was the rising sun, which, at this hour in the day, happened to sneak ever so slowly into the window across from mine, suddenly spilling out of its corners and shining brilliantly directly through my window and into me.
Fifteen seconds then. Fifteen seconds of pure apricity. I put down my pencil and straightened my back and closed my eyes and breathed it in like it was my first and my last. These simple things that cure us. We are all just plants that drive and kiss and wear shoes and pronounce world domination. Really, we are all just plants.
The sun crept away, the shadow of its smile reflected in me like the moon.
Take an hour, daylight savings, and I'll take one moment of sunshine.
It was real quiet and lonely and depressing, everybody just barely off, their internal clocks still clicking like the confused clap of someone finally realizing they're off beat and continuing to clap anyways.
The All-Alone seat is situated directly across from the windows, and outside these windows, a little ways away, across some brown grass and sleeping trees, are the windows of another branch of the school.
And across from these windows was the rising sun, which, at this hour in the day, happened to sneak ever so slowly into the window across from mine, suddenly spilling out of its corners and shining brilliantly directly through my window and into me.
Fifteen seconds then. Fifteen seconds of pure apricity. I put down my pencil and straightened my back and closed my eyes and breathed it in like it was my first and my last. These simple things that cure us. We are all just plants that drive and kiss and wear shoes and pronounce world domination. Really, we are all just plants.
The sun crept away, the shadow of its smile reflected in me like the moon.
Take an hour, daylight savings, and I'll take one moment of sunshine.
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