The library visit

••||Oldies and trouble||••

| CHAPTER ONE|

Rows of chairs faced me,the hallway appeared empty and lifeless.
I shifted my body in an attempt to see what Mr. Marks was doing through the blurry window.With his face buried in his computer , he looked up at me with an unfazed look.I Shuffled my body , preparing myself for everything  he would say-everything I expected him to say.
"Your better then this ,Jackie "."I want you to succeed and go beyond my expectations, Jackie"."Jackie I want to help you". What was funny was enthusiasm decreased;with each repetition of those
The beat of his shoes rushed me out of thought I beamed my eyes at him as I, watched him stand up from his chair. His feet hitting the ground with every stride.———————————————————————
     "Jackie?" Mr. Mark muttered in a monotone voice. Opening the door behind him
"Mr. Marks?" I mocked with a boring tone. There he was standing right in front of me,  fiddling with his glasses.
Appearing bored I stretched my body, acting like I had been sitting in the same spot for hours, I mean it felt that way anyway. I gestured toward the door, and Mr. Marks, with his little frame, held it open. He closed it behind me, but not before giving me a brief pat on the back.
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Mr. Marks was tall for an elderly person but also short. He wore a polo shirt and pants that day. Having a beard that leaned toward brown-gray he looked 40.
"How's that old hag holding up in the nursing home? I asked, trying to make conversation, but clearly not interested.
     "My Mom?" He answered back. Unimpressed, he took a seat directly across from me. ———————————————————————
"My Mother?" he asked once again, assuming I hadn't heard him.
"Oh yeah that's it!", realizing I had it right. I  cheered joyfully. I placed my feet on his desk to demonstrate my outstanding recall.
I asked, jokingly, "Quick question?"
         "What?" he questioned, shoving my feet a
off his cluttered desk. His room appeared the same as it always did: piles of paperwork and coffee mugs everywhere. There were trophies he had most likely won in the 1900s and random posters all over the walls.
"Is it not the case that when elderly people speak, dust appears out of their mouths?" I asked aloud.
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He simply degraded my question.
."Jackie, this is your third getting called down to my office this week," He said in a serious tone.
I ignored him, fiddling with, a pen on his desk I just looked at him plainly, pulling my gaze to the window.
"I was joking and I didn't realize he was gonna take that personally", I said, grinning, clearly not bothered.
He was agitated by my answer and gave me a troubled look.
Adjusting his glasses, to take a closer look at his computer. He replied," Well, it's not a joke to call your teacher." His face drew nearer the screen." A" He stammered out." a... a... a wife, beater,?".
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