I smell it, the smoke.
I sit right up in my bed, look to my left. 3:27.
My breathing is light and fast. 'Count from ten' I think.
10....9.....8.....7.. I smell it again. I see her.
6....5... Her eyes are melted shut
4...3...2.. She's dying, only a few metres away from me.
1... She's gone.
I remember my psychiatrist telling me that I couldn't help, there is no point in worrying about something I couldn't fix. But I keep replaying it over and over, trying to find a different outcome.
I look back at the clock, 5:28. Doubtful I'd get anymore sleep. I pick up a book, I don't read the title. I just walked over to my bookshelf and read
"I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me. Like the bodiless heads you see sometimes in circus sideshows, it is as though I have been surrounded by mirrors of hard, distorting glass." -Invisible Man, written by Ralph Ellison.
Hours later I get in my car, head to the school and walk into the front office. Not many people are walking around. I wonder if I'm early, I guess it's better than being late.
The woman at the front desk is on the phone, and gestures with her long nails for me to sit down, something tells me that she does this all the time, tells others to patiently wait.
I swing my bag off my back and sit in one of those uncomfortable chairs.
She puts the phone down, I couldn't tell what the conversation was about, but I know by the way she heavily exhaled as she hung up, that it wasn't resolved.
She tells me to come back over with the tilt of her head. "And you are?"
"Michael Harvey Ma'am," I reply, completely unsure of what to call her. Ma'am, really? What a moron.
She handed me my timetable. "Just out the door, straight and to your left," she didn't even look my from her computer. Typing away
"Thanks," I nod and make my way out the door.
The hallways was completely empty, yep. I'm late. A few people scatter to rooms. Not too late.
I found the room and walked in, shutting the door behind me. With a whole wall to select from, the middle-aged male teacher that was already in the room pointed at the wall. "Grab one, I'll be there in a second." I pick the closest guitar behind me.
I sit on a stool and face a wall with a whiteboard. I grab my pick from my bag and start strumming. Singing as I play.
I have a really weird feeling someone is listening to me play.
I turn around and see a door with a window on it. No one there.
Huh. I'm just a little paranoid.
And I'm talking to myself at night
Because I can't forget
Back and forth through my mind
Behind a cigarette -The White Stripes
