Mania

Lesson 7. Perseverance

Clemence fiddled with the strap of her bag, twisting it around her shoulder and picking at the hem of her dress, smoothing out the fabric that had gathered at her waist.

She was having trouble sleeping lately, ever since she had started school again. Clemence was usually a heavy sleeper, quick to fall asleep and always slept through the night. Recently she found herself tossing and turning, becoming agitated by every single thing, down to the fabric of her pillow, she found it felt scratchy against her face. She woke often too.

She had meant to doze for a few more minutes that morning but exhaustion had drawn her into a heavy extra half an hour of sleep, giving her fifteen minutes to leave the house when she finally awoke in panic. She had chucked her hair up into a makeshift bun, half of it falling down her neck. She wore an old dress, another one of her mother's old clothes, a black and white polka dot flouncy number which was slightly too loose and long. She rolled up the sleeves and pinned back the collar, put on a pair of flats and hoped the weather was not windy and forgiving on her bare legs.

She got to school with a few minutes to spare, racing up the stairs until she came to the floor of his office, slowing her pace to a brisk walk as she looked for his room at the end of the hall. She didn't know if he was there, the door was ajar ever so slightly and the mottled glass window on it made it difficult for her to see through. Unsure whether to enter, Clemence rapped her knuckles hesitantly onto the door.

'Come in.' The low voice called to her and she grasped the strap of her bag with one hand, pushing the door open with the other.

The first thing she notice was that his office was bigger than ones she had seen in the school before. He was at the window, his face dark in the dim afternoon light, shifting through a stack of papers in his hands.

'Close the door and take a seat.' He said lowly, not looking up from the paper in his hands.

Clemence frowned, pushing the door close behind her and taking a seat on the navy chair that faced his desk. The desk was placed in the middle of the room and pushed up against the left wall, a computer tucked up into the corner. It was completely bare, save a stack of papers, a pot of pens and what looked to be a leather bound organiser. To her right, a broad bookcase stood against the wall, not a space on it unoccupied. There was a small waste paper bin next to it, a door stop and desk of drawers. A shelf with a stack of heavy ring binders was placed above it. She scanned the rest of the room, noting a painting framed on the wall but the bit of sunlight that was coming through the window poured onto it and she could not make out what it was a painting of.

It was unlike any other office she had seen at the university, being so bare and organised, not a single stray paper, forgotten post it note or dropped pen in sight. She realized it probably wasn't bigger than the other offices, it just appeared to be so. There was nothing personal, no additional furniture, posters or pictures. The offices she had seen were strewn with family pictures, photos of wives or children framed on the desks, novelty mugs or personalized ornaments. There was nothing in the room that gave anything more away about him to her.

'Okay, Clemence.' He drew her name out, suddenly looking up at her as she sat on the other side of his desk, hand still firmly on her bag.

He walked over, opening his desk drawer and placing the papers he had been holding inside. He leant over, dressed in a white button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, dark hair slightly waved to the side, dark brows low. She watched his long fingers flip through a serious of paper in another draw before producing a single paper, the black text on it marred with red pen.