He’s confused, for a moment, paused on the edge of a perilous cliff, a decision that could change his life or, one that may not. But, he doesn’t know for sure. The fear building in the pit of his stomach, the overwhelming tidal wave of sick desperation he feels is inevitable and unrelenting. She is clueless to his terror, waiting, eyes fixated on his erection. She offered to give him a blowjob after class, a thoughtless gesture on her part. There are no consequences in her book, only what happens and at what cost the future is bridged to the present is not her concern: she was bored and horny and she wanted to blow him.
The teacher’s lounge is empty. Shadows of trees dance in the squares of afternoon sunlight cast through the window frame. A brown stain mars the pasty green and grey symmetry of the linoleum tiles where last winter the old coffee pot cracked open like a ripe melon, bleeding cheap ground coffee on the floor when it slipped out of her hand. Those clumsy hands with manicured fingernails where the chalk fills every crevice of her skin, outlining her fingerprint, those clumsy, chalky hands grabbing at his dick.
I can’t focus. I feel like crying and I keep listening to this song. Over and over again and her voice gets me every time and she makes me want to cry. I want to go to Princeton. I don’t feel like I’d fit in there. I’m so scared. I’m so sad. I can’t think of anything. Don’t forget me. I’ll remember.
He’s confused, for a moment, paused on the edge of a perilous cliff, a decision that could change his life or, one that may not. But, he doesn’t know for sure. The fear building in the pit of his stomach, the overwhelming tidal wave of sick desperation he feels is inevitable and unrelenting. She is clueless to his terror, waiting, eyes fixated on his erection. She offered to give him a blowjob after class, a thoughtless gesture on her part. There are no consequences in her book, only what happens and at what cost the future is bridged to the present is not her concern: she was bored and horny and she wanted to blow him.
The teacher’s lounge is empty. Shadows of trees dance in the squares of afternoon sunlight cast through the window frame. A brown stain mars the pasty green and grey symmetry of the linoleum tiles where last winter the old coffee pot cracked open like a ripe melon, bleeding cheap ground coffee on the floor when it slipped out of her hand. Those clumsy hands with manicured fingernails where the chalk fills every crevice of her skin, outlining her fingerprint, those clumsy, chalky hands grabbing at his dick.
I can’t focus. I feel like crying and I keep listening to this song. Over and over again and her voice gets me every time and she makes me want to cry. I want to go to Princeton. I don’t feel like I’d fit in there. I’m so scared. I’m so sad. I can’t think of anything. Don’t forget me. I’ll remember.
He’s confused, for a moment, paused on the edge of a perilous cliff, a decision that could change his life or, one that may not. But, he doesn’t know for sure. The fear building in the pit of his stomach, the overwhelming tidal wave of sick desperation he feels is inevitable and unrelenting. She is clueless to his terror, waiting, eyes fixated on his erection. She offered to give him a blowjob after class, a thoughtless gesture on her part. There are no consequences in her book, only what happens and at what cost the future is bridged to the present is not her concern: she was bored and horny and she wanted to blow him.
The teacher’s lounge is empty. Shadows of trees dance in the squares of afternoon sunlight cast through the window frame. A brown stain mars the pasty green and grey symmetry of the linoleum tiles where last winter the old coffee pot cracked open like a ripe melon, bleeding cheap ground coffee on the floor when it slipped out of her hand. Those clumsy hands with manicured fingernails where the chalk fills every crevice of her skin, outlining her fingerprint, those clumsy, chalky hands grabbing at his dick.
I can’t focus. I feel like crying and I keep listening to this song. Over and over again and her voice gets me every time and she makes me want to cry. I want to go to Princeton. I don’t feel like I’d fit in there. I’m so scared. I’m so sad. I can’t think of anything. Don’t forget me. I’ll remember.