Discordia would have been a better name, Harmony thought as she sat at her table in detention. Everything always seemed to fall to pieces around her. She traced a finger over the graffiti on the desk in front of her, but not touching those bits that were too crude, even for her. Sure, she spent a lot of time in detention, but that didn't mean that she was a bad person. It didn't mean that she swore all the time, or had... impure thoughts. Harmony wasn't even quite sure what it was that she was meant to be thinking to go with the rest of her delinquency.
She drummed her fingers on the surface before her, alternating between the fingertips and the nails. She checked her watch. 10 seconds. She alternated the rhythm so that it was syncopated. 30 seconds. 31 seconds. 32 seconds.
"Would you stop that tapping please?" the teacher sitting at the larger table at the front of the room asks. Probably rhetorically.
32 seconds. It had taken the last teacher four minutes before she'd become irritated enough to even ask her to stop. Better not mess with this one.
The bell rang finally, ten minutes later. Harmony had just about given up on it ever ringing. She was almost certain that the bell was broken before she remembered that she had set her watch five minutes fast. She picked up her bag and left the room without a word to the supervising teacher.
Detention lesson number ten: Don't flush the toilet when the sign says "out of order". It's there for your own benefit.
07 December, 2006
06 December, 2006
Robin Misses a Bus
He sat at the bus stop, waiting.
"Stupid," he cursed himself. He couldn't believe he'd just missed his bus. And for what? How had he been late anyway? He hadn't done anything other than what he usually did. And he'd checked his watch; the bus hadn't been early. But somehow, he wasn't there when the bus had come.
Most people would just chalk it up to having taken a little longer to walk to the bus stop. But not Robin, no. He had to have timed it. He left at the same time, walked at the same rate, but hadn't arrived on time.
As he got on the next bus (which was thankfully early), he mused longer. He nattered to the other man in the elevator about it. He whined while his manager came to drop off yet another pile of work for him to do. He complained through his lunch break with his friends. He griped to his fellow commuters at the bus stop home.
And finally, he crawled into bed, only to dream about it all night.
The next day he woke up to do it all again.
"Stupid," he cursed himself. He couldn't believe he'd just missed his bus. And for what? How had he been late anyway? He hadn't done anything other than what he usually did. And he'd checked his watch; the bus hadn't been early. But somehow, he wasn't there when the bus had come.
Most people would just chalk it up to having taken a little longer to walk to the bus stop. But not Robin, no. He had to have timed it. He left at the same time, walked at the same rate, but hadn't arrived on time.
As he got on the next bus (which was thankfully early), he mused longer. He nattered to the other man in the elevator about it. He whined while his manager came to drop off yet another pile of work for him to do. He complained through his lunch break with his friends. He griped to his fellow commuters at the bus stop home.
And finally, he crawled into bed, only to dream about it all night.
The next day he woke up to do it all again.
05 December, 2006
Judith
She sat in front of the computer screen one last time. Typing. She always typed. It was stress relief, something vaguely constructive to do on those days when all you want to do is rip your brain out, give it a serious scrubbing, then put it back in. On those days, washing your eyeballs and ripping out your spine helped too.
She received an instant message from someone but she ignored it. She continued typing. Tap. Tap-tap. Tap. Furiously she smashed the keys. Smash. S-mash. Smash.
Just a little bit more. A little bit further. Just one more thought.
Yours oh-so-insincerely,
Judith.
Done. Let's see what Cantridge Paper made of that. Served them right for giving her a paper cut.
She received an instant message from someone but she ignored it. She continued typing. Tap. Tap-tap. Tap. Furiously she smashed the keys. Smash. S-mash. Smash.
Just a little bit more. A little bit further. Just one more thought.
Yours oh-so-insincerely,
Judith.
Done. Let's see what Cantridge Paper made of that. Served them right for giving her a paper cut.
03 December, 2006
Charlotte sits alone
She was sitting by herself toward the back of the room. It wasn't a particularly dark corner that she was sitting in, but it was dark enough that someone not looking for her wouldn't notice her. She hadn't wanted to come, but Marcy had begged and begged until Charlotte had no idea why she was resisting in the first place.
She remembered now. It wasn't that she didn't know anyone there, or want to make new friends. But Marcy's friends weren't the sort of people she was comfortable making small talk with. They were too lewd, too... scary, was all she could think.
She sighed as she checked her watch. It wasn't even midnight yet. There was no way she'd be able to drag her friend home yet. And if it wasn't for the fact that Charlotte knew her friend was getting drunk off her face she would have left hours ago, as soon as she found that there was no one that would be suitable company. But she had to take Marcy home, couldn't leave her there like that.
She'd made a game of counting the couples who'd stumbled into the room she was sitting in, as well as the singles. Then she'd watched them leaving, seeing if they left with the same people or if the singles had hooked up. So far only one couple had come in and left unscathed. In one instance, two couples had switched partners, so Charlotte wondered if that was the way it was meant to be.
Two cat fights and fist fight later, Charlotte checked her watch. Past one. That was good enough. So she rose from her end of the couch (startling the couple on the other end that hadn't noticed her) and went to retrieve her friend.
She remembered now. It wasn't that she didn't know anyone there, or want to make new friends. But Marcy's friends weren't the sort of people she was comfortable making small talk with. They were too lewd, too... scary, was all she could think.
She sighed as she checked her watch. It wasn't even midnight yet. There was no way she'd be able to drag her friend home yet. And if it wasn't for the fact that Charlotte knew her friend was getting drunk off her face she would have left hours ago, as soon as she found that there was no one that would be suitable company. But she had to take Marcy home, couldn't leave her there like that.
She'd made a game of counting the couples who'd stumbled into the room she was sitting in, as well as the singles. Then she'd watched them leaving, seeing if they left with the same people or if the singles had hooked up. So far only one couple had come in and left unscathed. In one instance, two couples had switched partners, so Charlotte wondered if that was the way it was meant to be.
Two cat fights and fist fight later, Charlotte checked her watch. Past one. That was good enough. So she rose from her end of the couch (startling the couple on the other end that hadn't noticed her) and went to retrieve her friend.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)