She’s sitting in the second row, waiting for the professor to come in, acting like there’s no one else in the room. It’s doubtful that she has ever started a book and not finished it in her life. She’s beautiful and will probably make someone a good wife in the two thousand twenties if she’s not killed by a car crash or one of these twenty first century epidemics.
It’s an off day for me and my on days are probably way below your off days; but I was a great student in middle school so academically I can get by. Yet now the multi-colored sentences on the whiteboard from the previous class look three dimensional and thoughts about that girl’s head spinning around, not just like the exorcist scene, but suddenly she is the girl from the exorcist and I’m trapped in a basement somewhere. There’s music and tree bark with signs promoting fraternities and sororities and old rusty couch frames. Suddenly the student next to me is banging something on the floor or there desk and I jump and turn to look and a person is sitting down, that is all. While this is happening the nonsense of twenty people conversing in a crowded third floor room rises and expands until the professor walks, and I know that, like everyone else in the class, I’ll probably have to introduce myself and divulge information about who I am.
