Once the kids left the class, Frank sat on his hard steel chair for the first time and caught his breath. The dry, stale chalk on his hands felt odd, and he thought of moth balls, crushed and packed in his palms.
It was spring but now the blinds were shut, the lights were off, and a chill sat on his arms like thin dust on an aged book.
Not much time. The kids would be back soon, and with them he would have to hold his breath for another hour.
It was a good thing, at times like this, that Frank kept the rum in his desk. Of course, no one knew. No one at school and no one at home. There was small can of breath mints in the desk as well, so it was alright.
He took four quick sips of the rum and shut his eyes. He wished for the quiet of the room to take him by force, to blank out the math, the books and all the words of the past hour.
You need a break. Words of old friends, rich friends that should have died by now, whom he saw at a bar last night. You should take a break, Frank. Travel.
He hid the rum and dropped a few mints in his mouth and thought of where he would go, if he could go, if he could just get up and go.
But the bell, like a shot from a gun, brought the storm of voices back into the room and pierced his chest.
YOU ARE READING
Pieces of You
Short Story*** Not Original Work *** Title: Piece of You Author: Daniel Armand Lee (Tablo of Epik High) *** Each of us is different. Very different. We strunggle, pieces that we are, to come together as one. *** The story is not mine. I just retype them here...
