Past Present

I am in a forest under the gray sky. The light drizzle and cold breeze makes for a gloomy trip. I cross the river with my class, and we shiver in the waist-deep water. We're all wet from a prior dunk in deep water. How indelible is sixth grade on my memories.

I open my eyes. I'm in the office. My cubicle under harsh fluorescent lights. Worker bees buzzing past, all in a hurry. All busy. A busy bee is a happy bee. Curtains fall.

It's dark now. And the drizzle has increased to a steady patter. I look at her seated a few rows ahead of me, and feel my heart skip a beat.

The cursor on the monitor blinks on and on. Waiting for a command to come. My eyes stare on. My fingers stay folded in a fist up against my cheek. I heave a sigh and close my heavy eyelids again.

My heart feels sour. How can it not, when I'm staring at the two of them getting sweet with each other. So obvious. They must think we're stupid if they think they're discreet. They're anything but. I can't help but frown at the bitter taste in my mouth and the ache in my chest. Clouds rumble on up above. Sixth grade sucks.

My eyes flutter open just in time to see my superior arrive. They stay glued to her almond eyes and wavy hair tied tight behind her. I smile at her pretty face and get right to work.