The cold hum of the vents breathing the air conditioned breeze through out the abnormally still classroom is the only noise that interrupts the deafening silence. It catches my attention, not as a distraction, but as the focal point of my usually productive mind. It holds me there, as the complete inaction of the room becomes the backdrop to the serene murmur. I feel unconscious, struggling to awake myself from nothingness. The vent is a beacon of hope.
An absolute feeling of tunnel vision envelops my mind, in a shroud of incapability. All I can see is the sterile floor; the off white panels of cinder blocks that comprise the wall are hypnotizing. The desktops mind-numbing dull color, a pale lifeless white, triggers a R.E.M. state as I sit here still. As I sit here still, the only movement is the slight fluctuation of the solem
The teacher gives the command and large textbooks open in unison. Everyone is following mindlessly, just an effect of this room, this isolated, bitterly sanitary room. Her harangue is continued, as everyone is subdued and following aimlessly. The movements of every person are limited and unheard. Their pens slide across their lined blue sheets to record what is needed. Their faces give no hint to what they are feeling, just a blank rendering of their individuality.
The ticks of the clock now take priority. It is a godsend, a release from the utterly apathetic room. The gestures of the class now transform into that of an impatient silence. Everyone can feel the tension increase, but the hum from the vent remains. It will remain in this classroom even after we have fled. The tension is now so heavy now it is at the point o
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