He's there, sitting on a chair. His eyes are scanning through the words printed on the pages. All around him students are talking, laughing, running and enjoying each other's company.
But he's there as always. Indifferent to his surroundings. Nothing had ever distracted him from his lectures.
The only times he puts down the books is when the teachers enter the room, and the lesson starts.
He is one of the best students of the whole year, probably the best after all.
This shouldn't surprise.
He isn't really a nerd, just knowledgeable and not a procrastinator. It's evident that he understands how important this is. After all, school education helped him to get where he is.
He turns the page.
I have had the chance to glance at his profile many times before, but never had I been so distracted to forget everything else. It always took me off guard. His fair skin is in contrast with his deep brown eyes and the short chestnut hair that framed his face.
When he talks, I found myself staring at his light pink lips, not too dull nor too bright. They are slim and sometimes during his reading, one end lifts upwards as if he is side smiling, trying to hide the feelings the book brings to the surface.
Sometimes it happens that he stops, probably to think, perhaps to absorb what he just read.
No one knows what he's thinking. Even in class, he doesn't talk much. He knows the answers, but he doesn't find it necessary to say them all.
He knows his way. He knows when to talk and when to stay silent. He knows how to concentrate no matter the situation.
He turns the page.
His eyes are once again scanning through the sentences, black ink on yellowish paper. The book in his hands is old, very old. Probably from his great-grandfather, a very well known literate.
Sometimes he doesn't look like a teenager, sometimes his features show tiredness.
Suddenly the professor enters the room. He doesn't look up from his book this time. The teacher arrives at his desk, puts his material in front of him and starts talking.
He turns the page.
Does he know that the lesson has started? Did he notice?
He closes the book.
He looks up and turns his head slightly.
Our eyes meet.
He knows.
YOU ARE READING
Hourglass Thoughts
Short StoryA collection of thoughts and short stories I wrote from the early morning to the late night. The stories you find in this collection were all written by me and touch different subjects. Published for my 4th anniversary on Wattpad. Every chapter is d...
