John Quill
Stories (3/0)
Sh-SHAW- ShuRA
Blue birds flew south for the winter, below the gray clouds and above the heads of high school students. I watched them flying in formation while my pencil tapped pointlessly at the paper on my desk. I tried to pay attention to Mr. Frank and his slide show about the French revolution, but I couldn’t get into it that day. I couldn’t even look like I was paying attention. I’d never tried it before, but that day I was looking for my house through the classroom window. I was hoping on some level that I wouldn’t see it, yet I kept scanning over the trees back and forth. I stayed in this trance until the final bell rang to set us free, like another flock of birds flying home, but without formation. Mr. Frank nodded to me as I left. I nodded back to acknowledge him, and then immediately wondered why.
By John Quill3 years ago in Fiction